#I decided I may as well make her an oc also!

[barbelzoa]

Rozen Maiden oc? In this day and age?

[xisanamii]

i've attained a level of "canon divergence within canon divergence" . anyway under the read more is a mini script i wrote for this situation cuz they all nerds

Liu Wei: A-Xiang, what is thee doing here? Did Coach not task you with greeting the rest of Kaijo's team? Erika: I did that already. (turning to Himuro) Otome-senpai, here. Himuro: Hm? Erika: (hands him a stack of letters) Himuro: Ah, sorry for the trouble. Erika: (shrugs) Better than having them disturb practice. Himuro: I do feel bad about troubling you all the time with this. Erika: I mean, it's not like you haven't tried cleaning your locker out I assume. Moriyama: (pokes his head in) Locker? Liu Wei: (glances down) The locker of Himuro shall always be filled with the pinings of those who have fallen into the trap of love. Moriyama: !!! Himuro: (having a bad feeling of deja vu) Well, Erika-chan, maybe we should meet Coach-- Moriyama: Himuro-san! Hold on a minute! Himuro: ... yes? Moriyama: You never told me that you get love letters every day! Himuro: (sighs) Erika: (raises an eyebrow) You know him? Himuro: Know is a strong word. Liu Wei: (shaking head) Truly, it is an endeavor one must strive to achieve. That thee's lockers are this full to the point that A-Xiang shall be acting as a messenger. Moriyama: (gasp) Those girls are so dedicated that they'd sneak into into the boys' locker room?! Erika: (snorts in amusement) Himuro: Wha -- no, Yosen has school lockers, like the ones in America. Liu Wei: After all, we shall be pining for the intermingling of cultures, and a Western-style architecture and education in the coldest regions of Akita. Erika: He has two lockers, mind you. One like the ones in America, and the getabako. Both are always stuffed to the brim with letters. Himuro: (mutters) It's not always-- Moriyama: (turning to Liu Wei) Liu! Liu Wei: (appears to have a moment of understanding) Himuro: E-- Moriyama & Liu Wei: (surrounds Himuro) Himuro: ?! Moriyama: Please teach us how to receive letters like you do!! Himuro: Why-- Moriyama: It has to be you! Sensei!!! When we last talked about this, you had nothing but wisdom for me! Liu Wei: Yes. It shall be the sin of selfishness should thee declare this to be an act of secrecy. Himuro: I really don't-- MoriLiu: PLZ!!!! Himuro: (helplessly smiling) Erika-chan, whenever you're done laughing, I'd love some help on fending them off. Erika: Love, hm? Like a love letter? Himuro: Th-- Erika: Your request may take a few days seeing as I'm backlogged on delivering your love letters. MoriLiu: Himuro-sensei!!! Himuro: (a deep, long, soulful sigh) How am I supposed to give advice about something I don't even want...

[wall-eye]

hellooooo ive made a uc fankid oc <3 more about her under the cut, so that this post isnt a mile long <3

her name is Dyllin, because i had to, and shes SO cute. Shes got a little lopsided grin, and one dimple, and the cutest smattering of freckles on her nose right where her fur starts to turn pink. Both Rian and Atty are trans, so they raised her gender neutrally until she could tell them who she was herself (thus atty using they for her in that one art), and when she was about 3 she said she was a girl and now she wears all the pretty flowy dresses she can get her hands on (uncle foq supplies many of them)!

in the art above shes: 14, 16 (colored in), 19? (lines), ambiguous age younger than 3, 5?, and also 5. I think that ill mainly draw her as a little kid or around 14, cause those ages are where more interesting dynamics happen with people. Lots of funny kiddy moments, and growing into your own person moments. Which! is what im about in fankids! beyond just drawing a cute kid and having fun with design (which im also all about but just to give an explaination for why im drawing her at those ages). I dont think i want to go into adult ages for her yet, cause for the moment its about her being a fankid for me.

She takes after Chet and mostly Foq much more in personality than either of her actual parents, so shes a very carefree happy-go-lucky kid. To Rian's absolute horror (see below, for their rage at finding out), Foq flounces his way into being a archfey and becomes her warlock patron when shes a little kid, but its alright Aunt Scenda is her cleric deity so shes got a balance for his chaos! (she doesnt balance shit but it does make rian not kill foq over the pact so! whatever works!)

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #54 - Too Jealous]

“When you are way too jealous because of another woman.”

Genre: married life!AU, slight Angst, Smut

Warnings: jealousy, husband stealing women trying to get with Kook, while he is the most loyal puppy husband ever, insecurities, a fight because of her jealousy, but they make up <3, please he is so cute i couldn't be mad at him, subbiest!Jungkook, Domme!Reader, he wears bondage gear, and used eyeliner to write her name on his body, chastity cage, marking through hickeys & biting, subby boy tears, omfg he is such a cutie crybaby <3, nipple play & sucking, wearing of a buttplug, have i mentioned that he cries a lot? <3, very passionate sex in cowgirl position, where he is tied to the bed and whines and cries and is subbyyyy, he breaks the bed but stays put cause he is a good boy, choking, dirty talk, possessive talk, creampie, use of a vibrator, one quick face sitting for her please, he loves eating her out <3, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), forced orgasm through overstimulation with the vibrator, where she makes him cum so hard that he squirts <3, gentle aftercare, they're deeply in love and this is actually softer than the warnings may make it seem, bruh i need to recover from this

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: listen. it would be unrealistic to create ogc!koo and not have women want him left and right. of course our queen OC feels threatened sometimes (she doesn't have to, he is her loyal puppy fr) and i NEEDED to write this like i fucking NEEDED this on my blog i just *sigh* i love subby crybaby!koo so much :( ALSO! i decided to include anonie's dream from some time ago heheh 🧡

Jungkook is without a doubt the most attractive, most handsome, sexiest and hottest man ever. This is not an exaggeration but the truth. He is drop-dead, insanely gorgeous. He has the perfect body and knows what clothes to wear to really show it off. His tattoos are so well done and perfectly fit his body. His face is quite frankly to die for, his hair is always perfect and to make it even worse, he always smells so good. Because he is Jungkook, it also means that the perfection doesn’t stop at his looks. He is perfect inside as well. His heart is kind and gentle, he cares, he is funny, he is witty and he actually respects women. He is also way too talented and overall a good person. And he never ever brags about being basically perfect (which he is) because he is humble above all.

In short, Jeon Jungkook is the most attractive, perfect man ever. And because he is, it means that you, as his wife, have way too much competition. Not that Jungkook actually sees any of this competition because his love-drunk puppy eyes have solely been fixed on you for years and they plan on staying this way. Yes, he is bloody loyal too. What a perfect fucking man he is. He is loyal and therefore blind to the competition, but you are aware of the competition. You can distinguish between a naturally friendly woman and a woman who is only that way because she wants to get with him. And Jungkook gets a lot of these women as his customers. You can’t blame them for swooning over him – whenever he tattoos you, you can’t stop staring either – but there are the kinds of women who still want to try to seduce him even after finding out that he is married. And because Jungkook doesn’t actually care for their attention, he is also not really aware that they keep coming back for more tattoos just so they could be touched by him or stare at him. Most of these women finally give up when they actually see you, but there is this one specific woman who seems hellbent on stealing Jungkook from you and she is currently at his studio again.

“___?” 

You turn your head to the left at the sound of your employee’s voice.

“Yes, Katy?” 

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring at Jungkook’s studio for fifteen minutes now.”

“I have?”

Katy nods her head, “did you guys have a fight?”

“No, but she is back.”

“Ooooh”, Katy realises, “Ariana?”

“Yeah…her”, you grumble, tensing your jaw.

“Again? Didn’t he literally talk about your wedding last time?”

“He did.”

“And didn’t he say that she had a boyfriend too?”

“He did.” You squint your eyes. “Stupid bitch, I bet she is currently looking at his tits and arms. God.” You stomp your foot like a stubborn child. “Why does he have to have such massive tits and arms?” you whine to which Katy laughs.

“You’re literally so jealous, it’s insane.”

“Yeah I am. He is so gorgeous and some women just don’t get that he is mine.” 

Katy pats your shoulder in soothing. 

“There, there. I bet he is not even giving her a first thought or a second or a third.”

“I hope he isn’t. Otherwise, divorce.”

Katy belts a laugh.

“You’re being so dramatic. Jungkook would already start crying if he so much as thought about the hypothetical of cheating on you.”

“I guess.” You send the studio one last glare then sadly have to leave your brooding position to tend to some customer with Katy. 

A little over an hour passes like this, then the restaurant calms down again and you glare. 

Katy, who notices, pats your shoulder again.

“Still not over it?”

“She hasn’t left yet.”

“Maybe it’s a bigger tattoo?”

“She never gets big tattoos because it means that she can come back as often as possible.”

“Wow okay, very scheming indeed.”

“Yes, very. I bet she is one of those women who get off on stealing taken men. You know what? I’m going over there.”

“For what reason?”

“I don’t know. Bringing coffee”, you say and grab one of the coffee jugs and two mugs. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck, queen”, Katy calls after you, smiling fondly. It’s kind of cute how jealous you can be when there is truly nothing to worry about.

You see them from outside. They are in the front of the shop, hugging. Jungkook doesn’t touch her, keeping at least five inches of distance between his arms and her body while she is slung around him with her face in his neck as if she wanted to literally crawl into him. Judging by his widened eyes, he was not expecting this hug.

It you didn’t carry a jug full of hot coffee, you would have literally kicked the door in.

But instead you open it with a happy “yuhu” on your lips, following it up with a “I bring coffee, my darling.” 

“Oh, sweetie”, Jungkook says, stepping back to escape the hug.

The wannabe home wrecker lets go of Your husband and takes a step back, studying you from head to toe judgingly. You place the coffee pot on the counter and hug Jungkook. He hugs you back instantly, rubbing the small of your back and kissing the side of your neck gently.

“Hey.”

“Hey there, my hubby”, you say and place multiple kisses on his neck and jawline. Then you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face down into a deep, passionate kiss. The kind of kiss which lasts way too long and is way too intimate. You end the entire show with a squeeze of his butt and a goofy grin.

“I missed you today, my hubby bubby sweetie. I kept thinking about the amazing head you gave me this morning and how you kept telling me that you’ll always be mine.”

Jungkook is gawking at you with his mouth wide open. What you said wasn’t a lie because he actually did do that, but you are normally not exposing stuff like this to the public. Or kissing him like this as a matter of fact.

You cuddle into him, hugging his arm and shifting your eyes to the glaring woman in front of you.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t even see you there. Who are you?” You look at Jungkook. “Shoot, did I just expose us to one of your customers, darling? I’m sorry.”

“It’s uh…” Jungkook’s cheeks are bright red. “Forgive me Miss Grand, this is my wife- eek.” He squeaks and tenses up when you grab his butt unapologetically. “Sorry uhm, thanks for uhm coming for the tattoo today. Uhm, don’t forget to do proper aftercare on it and to use the cream I recommended you.”

The home wrecker is flabbergasted for a moment, but then catches herself quickly. She actually tries to shoot her shot in front of you. She steps closer with the plan of hugging him again. 

You are in front of him instantly, staring her down like a lioness one second away from ripping apart her prey.

“You think I’m being funny?” You hiss. “I’ve been friendly with you up until now. Understood?”

Jungkook stays quiet for his own sake, but holds your hand and gawks at you with widened eyes. This is the first time he sees you like this. 

The home wrecker finally gets the message and scrunches her nose.

“I’ll see you soon again, Jungkookie”, she coos and leaves with a flick of her hair. 

The door slams closed. You stay glaring for a few more seconds then turn around. Jungkook blinks his eyes at you in confusion.

“You can’t stop thinking about the head I gave you this morning? Really?” he asks, cocking his brow up in question.

“Whatever. I was trying to say the most possessive thing ever”, you grumble, making your way to the coffee pot.

“Possessive?” Jungkook follows you with his eyes. He suddenly gasps. “Wait! Are you jealous?”

“What? No? I was trying to send a message.”

“Send a message about what?”

“That you’re married.”

“I think she knows. I talk about you constantly.”

You can’t help but smile. He is actually so sweet.

“I don’t think she cared. Now she actually knows that I exist and that I’ll fight. She’ll think twice about hitting on you again.”

“Aw baby, you are jealous.”

“Yes I am. You don’t get it. You’re so perfect and handsome and you sometimes don’t see how other women look at you, but I do. I see all of it”, you hiss at him, sending him such a deathly glare that Jungkook is actually taken aback for a moment.

“No baby, don’t even worry about them. I don’t care about how they look at me, I just wanna look at you”, he says, touching your hips. He flutters his lashes at you, smiling extremely cutely. 

“Then refuse service to Miss Grand.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She is trying to steal you from me.”

Jungkook scoffs, “let her try, I don’t care about her.”

“No, you don’t get it, I-”

A customer interrupts you and him. 

“Oh? Sorry for the disturbance, I didn’t know that you had another customer”, he says, looking sorry.

Jungkook studies your face with guilty eyes for one more second then sadly has to look away. He forces a customer service smile to his face.

“Don’t worry Duke, you’re on time. That’s my wonderful wife ___, she is running the restaurant over there and brought us coffee for our session”, he says, placing his arms over your shoulder to kiss your temple. But you only let him do so halfway then shake yourself free.

“Sorry, works calling again. Hungry people don’t like to wait”, you say. “Good luck with the tattoo.”

You leave the studio and with it a conversation which was definitely not over yet. Jungkook looks after you with sad, guilty eyes until you disappear in the restaurant.

Jungkook leaves the studio at seven like he always does. One more hour and he will drive home with you. He crosses the street and enters the restaurant like he always does. He promised you to stay with you during closing hour to keep you safe from creeps who don’t want to leave. And Jungkook always keeps his promises to you. Especially his marriage promises. He looks for you with a nervously racing heart, but can only find Katy and Joe.

“Are you looking for ___?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, I’m picking her up to drive home together”, he answers him. 

“Damn sorry man, you missed her by about ten minutes.”

“She already went home?”

Joe nods his head.

“Did she say why?”

“Just that she was feeling a little tired tonight.”

Katy joins Joe’s side, staying way too close. You regularly give Jungkook updates about these two. They try to be sneaky about it, but you already figured out that they are secretly dating. Jungkook is always very excited when you give him updates about them during late night cuddles in bed. He feels so sad at the thought right now because he knows that he managed to hurt you today and now there won’t be any updates or cuddles.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know?” Katy says.

Jungkook nods his head, “I hope. I, uhm, Imma go now. Check up on her, you know?”

“Yes, do that.”

“Take care, you two.”

“You too.”

Jungkook drives home with a deep pit of guilt in his stomach. He doesn’t drive straight home, but takes a little detour to a florist to get a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He cradles it like a baby for the rest of the drive home. 

Thankfully, your bike is in the garage and your gear is stored in the closet. Jungkook makes sure that the garage door is closed and then hurries inside. 

Like every night, Bam greets him happily, but Jungkook can only give him attention half-heartedly. He needs to talk to you. 

“Babygirl, I’m home!” 

You don’t answer him. Jungkook discards his keys and swerves past a confused Bam. He checks the kitchen and the living room, both of which are empty. 

“Sweetie, your hubby is back!”

No answer.

He checks the bathroom and the bedroom, then his room. Lastly, he checks your room. 

Bingo.  

You are on your mattress with the television running. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere”, he says, hurrying to you. 

He falls to his knees and presents the flowers.

“I’m sorry for today”, he says, bowing his head. 

You glance at him, then the flowers. He got your favourites in your favourite colour and arranged in a heart. You sigh in defeat and turn off the television.

Jungkook lifts his head at the sound, meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m stupid and dumb and a buffoon”, he says apologetically.

You scoff, stifling a smile. He notices it and closes in on you instantly. He tries to kiss your cheek, but you move back.

He sits back on his feet, pouting at you.

“I’m really sorry”, he says.

“I know, I guess you don’t have to be. It’s not like you’re actually entertaining her antics.”

He shakes his head vigorously.

“Never ever. I couldn’t care less about her, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell her to look for another tattoo artist.”

“No, it’s okay. I was unreasonable.”

“Well, do you want me to or are you just saying so?”

You hesitate but then shake your head, “it’s okay.” 

Jungkook exhales in defeat. He scoots closer, holding your hand.

“___ baby, I love you and I only want you.”

“I know, thank you for the reassurance and the, uhm, flowers. They’re so cute.”

“Right? I told the florist to make a heart as big as my love for you, but she ran out of flowers before she could match its size.”

He makes you smile. Jungkook hooks onto it, finally leaning in to smooch your cheek. You still pull away however.

“I’m sorry. I need to be alone right now. Is that okay for you?”

“I mean, I’ll definitely feel really guilty the entire time, but I guess if you really need it”, Jungkook says with insecurity in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll make dinner in the meantime, yeah?”

“I brought stuff from the restaurant. I already ate, sorry.”

“Oh, uhm, okay.” Jungkook hesitates, pulling back in insecurity. “Do you still love me?” he asks with sad puppy eyes 

“I still love you, I promise.”

“I love you too. So much, as big as the flower heart. Even bigger.”

You accept the flowers and give him a smile.

“Thank you, Kook.”

He lingers, waiting – hoping – for you to make a move. You linger, waiting for your feelings to make sense to you. You don’t know if you are angry at him. He wouldn’t deserve it because he did nothing wrong and yet it feels as everything is his fault. If he wasn’t that perfect, that handsome and sweet, other women wouldn’t want to rip him from you all the time. Why does he have to be the way he is? You glare at him. Jungkook looks away instantly, shrinking in obvious helplessness.

“Okay then, I’ll be going now.” He says and looks at you hopefully. Maybe you want to say something now. But you only nod your head.

He stands up with a heavy heart, “you’re gonna miss out on couch snuggles, just saying”, he tries, but doesn’t get far. 

He ends up alone for the rest of the evening while you lock yourself away in your room. 

Jungkook tries to distract himself with a show and by taking Bam on a beach walk, but his mind keeps racing with memories of today. If only he did and or said the right thing. It feels like he fucked up everything. You have never been like this before, you never threatened other women or refused his apologies. It feels like the end and it makes Jungkook feel like shit.

When he comes back from his walk with Bam, your door is still closed. Nothing changed. Is this really it for you and him?

Jungkook runs away to the shed in hopes of finding distraction in a workout. Otherwise he would cry on the couch. He is in the middle of punching the punching bag as if it owed him money when he gets is a text message from you. He throws the gloves away and stops the music. He opens them instantly, eventhough he normally always forgets to check his messages. His heart is pounding in his chest to the point he has to sit down from dizziness.

-          Wifey ♡: Today was too much. She called you Jungkookie and hugged you…

-          Jungkook: I know! 😡 So weird!!! 🤢 it happened really fast, I didn’t wanna hug her and she never called me this way before. It’s so icky 🤢

-          Wifey ♡: She’s a bitch… I notice how women look at you and it makes me feel insecure. You’re so attractive and everything about you is so female gaze coded and so many of your customers are trying to take what’s not theirs.

-          Jungkook: I’m so sorry that you feel this way…What do you need right now to feel better again?

-          Wifey ♡: I don’t know. Maybe more effort from you? I’m so unfair to you, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do anything wrong, but I still can’t be close to you right now. I’m sorry, I don’t know either why that is…

-          Jungkook: I understand, sweetie. Don’t apologise. I’ll give you your space. My offer for couch snuggles still stands whenever you’re ready.

-          Wifey ♡: I know. Thank you. I love you

-          Jungkook: I love you too, my egg :D

-          Wifey ♡: 🙄

-          Jungkook: 😝😂

You don’t text him anything else anymore, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. You gave him a task. More effort. Jungkook will think of the best, most devoted plan ever and literally sweep you off your feet with it. Jungkook spends the rest of his nightly boxing session distracted with making up plans. Once his idea finally comes to him, he abandons the gym instantly, hurrying to get everything ready before you leave your room.

You are a little scared of facing Jungkook again. You sulked for too long. Now it is already midnight and he needed to go to bed alone. You know that he won’t be able to sleep and you are scared of the tired, sleepy begs he will give you. But you couldn’t help yourself. You felt so insecure today and looking at his perfect face taunted you. 

With a heavy, fearful heart, you open the bedroom. You come to a halt, barely managing to close to door and then your mouth falls open. 

Jungkook is kneeling on the floor by the foot end of the bed. He is wearing a black leather collar on which a thick silver chain is attached. Said chain connects to a pair of matching leather handcuffs. Another set of chains connects these with ankle cuffs. He has his head lowered and is completely naked. The only thing keeping his dick modest is a chastity cage. 

The view is doing wonders. But what truly seals the deal are the markings he put on his own body. With the help of his black eyeliner, he wrote your name on different spots on his body. Under his nipples, all over his neck, right above his caged cock, along his arms, all over his thighs and his stomach.

“What’s that?” you gasp. 

Jungkook lifts his head. He also marked his face for you.

“I’m sorry for being a bad devotee, my queen wife. I didn’t manage to show you the proper amount of devotion. My flesh and soul are yours to break tonight.”

You gulp. Just now, your eyes managed to brush over the array of sextoys he laid out on bed behind him. Impact play toys, cock toys, anal toys, nipple toys. He is giving you full and sole authority over his body right now and how it is supposed to experience pleasure. 

Jungkook bows until his forehead rests against the wooden floor. The chains jingle as he moves.

“Please allow me to show you my devotion, my queen wife. I promise to take whatever you deem fit.” 

The sight, his actions, the indications are all indecently sexy and hot but you still melt in fondness. First the flower heart and now this. You never doubted his love for you, but you doubted your own ability to keep him with you. This right here feels so good to experience. 

You close the distance. 

“Look at me.”

Jungkook lifts his head, gazing up at you like a believer seeing his beloved goddess. You take his chin between your fingers. He sighs, leaning into the touch. 

“Those are some pretty letters you put on there.”

“They are the only letters which matter to me because they spell your name, my queen wife.”

“Oh my god”, you let out. “God Kookie…” You kneel down in front of him and kiss him.

Jungkook moans like a sinner finding resolution, tilting his head to deepen the kiss while his cuffed hands stay on his thighs, balling to fists.

“God fuck, Kook”, you get out, breaking the kiss.

Jungkook sighs, chasing you with half-lidded eyes. But another kiss doesn’t come. You move back, cradling his cheeks. Your eyes are a little glassy.

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight”, you say.

He shakes his head, “don’t talk about this right now, my love. Just take it out on me.”

You smile without showing teeth, sniffling a little. Jungkook leans into your touch, gazing at you.

“If that’s what you want. If the idea is stupid, we can just cuddle and talk instead.”

“No. No cuddles. This idea is perfect”, you say, squishing his cheeks to the point where his lips stick out.

“Okay”, he mumbles with pouted lips, fluttering his lashes at you.

“Good.” You let go of his face. Ghosting your fingertips down his torso.

Jungkook chases your touch with shivers and sighs, gazing at you.

“Look at you. All of that is mine.”

“Everything. All of it”, Jungkook agrees, shivering especially deep when you feel up his thighs. He is so sensitive there.

“You know that you’re perfect? That you’re literally the most attractive man ever?”

“I am?”

“Mhm and it makes me furious sometimes ‘cause I have to fight stupid leeches left and right.”

“The only leech I want sucking my blood is you.”

You laugh. He laughs as well.

“So I’m a leech now?”

“Yeah, but you’re my leech. Just like you’re my egg.”

You push at him gently, “shut up, you’re the egg here.”

He grins cutely, cheek sticking out from it. You squish it and give it a kiss. Jungkook leans into it, wiggling his wrists and making the chains jingle. 

You drop your hands to them, following them until you can intertwine your fingers with him. He squeezes you eagerly, gazing at you.

So now you are kneeling on the floor, facing each other while the bad day is left outside the door.

“We’re gonna be so tired tomorrow”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s worth it. I could spend forever in your arms.”

“Oh Kook”, you lower your head and sniffle. 

“What’s the matter? Talk to me, my love”, he asks you in a caring voice.

“I just feel bad because I pushed you away.” 

“Don’t. I get it. Jealousy can make one act really out of character.” 

“Yeah”, you agree and lift his hands to kiss his knuckles. The chains jingle and he gasps softly. You linger on his wedding band for especially long, memorising the way it sits around his finger eternally and like it was meant to be there. 

“Wanna make up for it”, you say.

“You don’t have to”, he assures you, despite secretly soaking up the affection and wishing for it to last forever.

“No. I do. I really do”, you say and kiss each of his fingers, “mine.”

“Yours. Forever.”

You guide his constricted arms behind your head next so he is holding you. Like this, you close the distance, releasing a sigh of relief the second you melt against his chest. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, hugging you back as best as his constricted state allows.

“This isn’t right”, you murmur and fumble with the chains. They fall from the ring of the choker, next the choker itself falls off and your face can finally touch his neck. 

You inhale and exhale, “yes. This.” 

Jungkook quite frankly has to fight tears. He expected you to be a little mean to him, but not this. You are so tender and the hug feels so healing. Jungkook has a hard time not sobbing into your shoulder miserably. 

It becomes almost impossible when you begin kissing his neck and quite frankly becomes impossible once you leave your first hickey.

The sensation soaks so deep into his fibers. It feels so good tonight.

“Oh god”, he gets out, rolling his head back and whimpering your name.

You claim his newly exposed neck gladly, starting your heart-fixing task of marking him. Some kisses here and some hickeys there. Jungkook gasps and whimpers with each of them, while you feel more and more reconnected with him.

Your hands touch him everywhere. His arms, his waist, his shoulders and back. But the most favourite spot is when you suck a hickey on his skin and you get to cradle the other side of his neck. It feels so deeply possessive yet gentle.

Jungkook finally breaks when you draw a little heart on his skin. 

“Oh god”, he chokes out and hiccups a few sad sniffles. His constricted hands fall to his face, covering his eyes as best as possible.

You lift your head, looking at him worriedly. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sorry, today was a lot”, he gets out, trying to mask his sob with a cough. 

“Hey, Googie”, you gasp, pulling his hands away to check on him, “talk to me.”

“I would never cheat on you. I-I’m so angry at myself because I made you feel like I would.” 

“Fuck, no you didn’t. Fuck Googie, come here.” 

You hug him, Jungkook hugs you back as best as possible. He sniffles into your shoulder, but doesn’t need to spill new tears.

“I know you wouldn’t cheat, please don’t be angry at yourself.”

“So you know that I’m loyal?” he mumbles with a pout.

“I do”, you assure him, scratching him behind his ear soothingly.

“Thank god”, Jungkook sighs, melting into you.

“You know, Katy said that you would literally cry if you as much as thought about cheating on me and it seems that she was right.”

“I could never cheat”, he shakes his head, “I love you so much.” 

“I know, Googie I know. I love you too. God, let’s just…let’s get on bed, where it’s more comfortable.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You swipe the toys to the side and push Jungkook onto his back. He lets you gladly, writhing with his eyes halfway closed and his cheeks flushed.

You open the ankle cuffs and chain, taking them off. The new freedom is taken by Jungkook instantly. He uses it to dig his heels into the mattress and open his legs.

Everything about his movements lets you know that he is riding it too. This wave of deep connection. It is as if your souls and energies are forming one synergy. You heal and in the process heal him. He heals and in the process heals you. This right now is one moment of utter connection.

You take off your pyjamas and sit down next to his hips. You cup his cheek, calling his attention. 

Jungkook looks at you and whimpers. His poor constrained cock wants to twitch but can’t. It hurts, forcing a pained whimper out of him and a tortured squirm of his hips to run through him. 

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, reaching for you with constricted hands. 

“Thank you. You’re beautiful too”, you say and close the distance. You roll on top of him and let him put his arms around you. You rest above his caged cock, head sinking into the pillow next to him and lips brushing his neck. 

Like this, you enjoy each other how nature intended it. Naked skin against naked skin, hearts beating in sync and body warmths becoming one. 

“This is heaven”, he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against you.

“Yeah, it is”, you agree, getting lost in his scent.

The clock shows thirty past midnight by now. You and he are both so sleepy already, exhausted from a bad day and so ready for sleep. Neither of you want to fall asleep however, forcing your bodies to keep moving. 

You keep you and him awake by beginning a journey to his cock. You suck hickeys all over his chest and stomach next to the letters he wrote, making Jungkook feel so fucking good that he has to twist the pillow once you reach his cock.

You shove his legs apart gently and do what drives Jungkook crazy. You leave hickeys on his inner thighs, which feels nice but which feels miniscule once you begin leaving bite marks instead. Jungkook whines so agonised that it borders cute little sobs. It feels so good but he can’t enjoy it freely.

The cage hurts. It is made of metal and digs into his erection painfully. It hurts so much. 

You aren’t making it better by licking him over the cage. Warmth and wetness, the little spots which are bulging out between the cage elements get a feel of your soft tongue as well. 

Jungkook begs. Of course he begs. Jungkook is such a natural at begging.

“Please. Hurts. Please, no more.” 

“Keys?” the word tickles him, increasing his agony. 

Jungkook mewls and lifts his hips. Your eyes flit to his hole. Stuffed with a purple plug. 

“Are you serious?” you gasp.

“Yeah. Please.”

“Shit, this is so hot”, you rasp and tug out the toy. 

His sweet hole gives it up groggily, pulsing in emptiness afterwards. He mewls, curling his toes in desperation. You can only take it in halfway, busy with opening the special plug. It is hollow inside and big enough to store a vibrator. On normal nights this is what fills the toy but tonight, Jungkook stuffed the chastity cage keys into it. You can barely fetch them or use them to unlock his cage because your fingers are shaking so much.

To think that he stored his means of freedom inside himself so you can decide when to give it to him. He is so hot and you want him so bad. 

When the cage finally unlocks, you work quickly to get it off of him, throwing it to the side once you did. 

Jungkook sobs, rolling his hips up. His poor cock finally springs into its natural position, it is purple and bruised at first but flushes more and more the longer he is free. You soothe it by rubbing him with two hands.

Jungkook moans your name, arching off the sheets. His tip flushes, leaking uncontrollably. It feels hot between your fingers as you massage it from both sides.

Your name leaves him again, as a mewled stutter this time around. He has to repeat each of your vowels twice before he finally manages to get it out. He must be so sensitive right now.

“I could fucking pass out right now. I need you so bad”, you say, rubbing your pussy on his thigh unapologetically. The friction is all that keeps you sane. The knowledge that you smear yourself all over his skin is doing the rest.

“Fuck me. Please”, he begs, throbbing and pulsing in your hands. He is leaking so much, unable to stop.

“I will. I fucking will”, you say and climb off his lap. 

Jungkook doesn’t get it, whimpering your name.

“Please.”

“I will, just…need to do this”, you say and take his wrists to guide them above his head. You pick up the chain and shuffle up his body so you can fix the chain on the headboard. You installed your very own hidden hooks for it. They come in handy as you fix him into place. 

Speaking of places, you accidentally picked out the sexiest place to tie him down. Right above his face and you aren’t even noticing it. 

Jungkook makes sure that you notice by lifting his head and connecting his mouth with your pussy.

“Woah”, you gasp, dropping the chain to grip the headboard. You catch yourself at the last moment from sitting down on his face, but you can’t stop the trembles coursing through your legs. 

Jungkook mewls, flicking and swirling his tongue eagerly. You taste so good tonight. You always do, but tonight it hits different. It brings him back to a better reality. A reality where he gets to love you without insecurities nagging at you. A reality where he is your husband and you know what this means. And a reality where his tongue still manages to make you arch your back and moan his name as you clench around nothing.

In this perfect reality this would have continued until he made you climax, but you deny him. You lift yourself and pick up the chains again, securing them on the hooks as quickly as possible just so you can shimmy down again. 

Jungkook feels empty until you give him something else by kissing him deeply. His instincts tell him to sling his arms around you, but the chains hold him back.

He whimpers, destined to kiss you without hugging you while you slowly touch him. The agony becomes especially unbearable when you finally sink him into your warmth. 

He rips his eyes open, moaning into your mouth but it sounds more like gurgled whimpers. You break the kiss, looking at him for those last few inches. 

“Can you feel this?”

“Yeah, it feels so good”, he gets out, spilling tears. He is such a crybaby when you get him subby enough.

“Mhm, it does. Means we’re one. Right?”

“One. We’re one. ___ baby, I love you”, he gets out and sobs in sync with you bottoming out and picking up a rhythm. 

He tugs on the chains again, voice turning from a sob to a moan and head rolling to the side. He squeezes his eyes shut, opening his mouth and furrowing his brows. The hickeys look so pretty on his neck and tears fit his face so well. 

Your heart pounds and dances as you ride him because you are so happy and in love. Jungkook is the perfect man and he is yours. You don’t know what wondrous deeds you did in your previous life to deserve so much luck, but you are eternally grateful. 

“Mine. You’re mine”, you chant, closing your fingers around his throat to cut off his blood flow. 

Jungkook fights the chains, wanting to grasp your arms and force you closer to his neck. He can’t. He has to fight the chains and take the very passionate ride.

“Yours. Yours. Yours”, he keeps chanting, filling the silence up with moans and little sobs as you drive him to the brink of madness.

“Mine, yeah. Fuck, I need more”, you say and sit down on him. You slide your hands from his neck and look behind yourself.  

Jungkook watches you, filling your pussy with his precum as his cock can’t seem to stop throbbing. It hurts to only be warmed. He wants you to bounce on him again. It feels so good when you do because you are so tight and warm and his cock gets jerked off so heavenly. Please he wants you to move and to choke him and to move and, and, and. This is all he needs. Great sex and intense pleasure. 

“There.”

You make his agony unbearable by climbing off him so you could get the toy you spotted.

“Please”, he begs in a shaky whisper, staring at your exposed pussy and ass longingly. You are glistening and look just a little stretched open from his cock. You are also so puffy and look so, so soft. 

He wiggles the chains, whispering your name, “please, it hurts.”

Luckily for him, you return quickly and sink him back inside even quicker.

Jungkook moans, swelling inside you happily. His eyes roll back and close, his back arches.

“You’re too needy”, you tease.

“I love you”, he argues and you have nothing to say to that. 

He is so sweet, making you smile and pick up a rhythm again.

“I love you too, you egg”, you say, rubbing his tummy as you ride his perfect cock to pure ecstasy. The black eyeliner has smeared by now, sitting on his skin messy and unintelligible. It also spread to your skin, deepening the eternal connection you and he have. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous”, you moan, slamming down on him especially hard.

Jungkook mewls, tugging on the chains and curling his toes. His submission drips from each of his blissed moans. How flushed his face is, how messy his hair sticks to it.

The knowledge that you are the only fucking person who gets to see him like this makes you feel so good. The thought that you are also the only person who he allows to be close in such sinful ways does the rest. 

His cock never felt better inside you, giving you pleasure so deep that you feel like floating. And you want more, shifting the toy you got into place.

His eyes are closed so the low hum of the vibrator turning on comes as a surprise to him. Just as the sensations do. The friction of your tightening walls hit him first, the subtle vibrations tickle him next.

Jungkook screams and tugs especially roughly. A dangerous crack follows and suddenly the chains fall from the headboard together with the hook. 

“Did you?” you slow down, staring in shock. He broke the bed.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t stop, please I’ll stay put! Please don’t stop!” he begs, keeping his hands above his head.

“Holy fuck, you’re so damn sexy tonight”, you growl and pick up the rhythm again. You press the vibrator closer to your clit, resting your empty hand on his thigh so you can ride him like there was no tomorrow. 

Skin slaps against skin, wet squelching and slurping joins it and the bed keeps creaking. Jungkook’s endless moans and helpless gasps for air almost overshadow the other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, he keeps chanting, looking so pretty as he takes the ride.

It is almost one in the morning. You and he are delirious in sleepiness, heads dizzy and drugged up from sex. This is so intense that it is soaking into the deepest parts of your souls.

“Fuck. Your moans”, you get out, hips stuttering.

Moving becomes difficult. Not only are you exhausted, but you are also insanely close to an orgasm. He drives you insane with his noises.

You drop to the front, slamming your hand down on his constricted wrists and burying his face in your tits.

“Gotta shut you up for a moment, otherwise I’ll pass out”, you say.

Jungkook sobs, sucking on your nipples respectively. He drools, he slurps, he cries. Your nipples have never felt more appreciated than they do right now and it is going to make you climax.

“Shit, this is…urgh Kook. Now”, your warning is useless because it still surprises him. 

He muffles his yelp in your chest, fighting your hand because he wants to hug you. You won’t let him yet, needing the support to ride out your high. You moan his name and become a new person.

“Jesus fuck, woah Kook. Ah Kook, holy fuck. Googie baby…”

And Jungkook sobs, head dizzy and air sparse. He is so close. Your orgasmic convulses feel so good around his cock. The vibrations are so intense.

You are tighter after your high, wetter and hotter too. Jungkook is almost at the peak of what he can take. He thinks that he can’t take much more. And then you straighten up. You slide your hand to his nipples to play with them and Jungkook genuinely sobs like the subby crybaby he currently feels like. You stick the vibrator between his legs so it stimulates his rim and parts of his balls. 

Jungkook was right. He can’t take much more.

“Please stop! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, show me who gets you so high”, you allow him, rubbing the vibrator on his sensitive hole and pinching his nipple.

Jungkook wails, kicking the mattress and arching his back.

“___!”

He almost throws you off from how aggressively he bucks his hips up, but you are used to his wild side. You know how to ride the little beast that is your husband when pleasure really controls him. You slam your hips down, rendering him useless as you intensify his orgasm tenfold. 

Jungkook cries real tears once it stops. He begs and begs and begs. 

“Please no more. Please, it hurts. Please, sensitive. Please stop.”

And you listen. Well, in your own sadistic ways. You slip off his cock but give him no break. You press the vibrator against his frenulum and squeeze down on his lower stomach.

“Please, hurts. Please, oh god please”, he sobs and coughs, writhing and kicking helplessly as you overstimulate him. You are hovering above his shaky legs, leaking the thick creampie he stored inside you. What a shame that you are leaking, but it is for the greater good. Like this, you can torture him and overstimulate him until he gives you what you crave.

And because it is Jungkook and tonight left him so fucking ruined, it doesn’t take him long to reach it. Another orgasm. So much more intense and slightly painful it hits him. The pressure you have on his bladder decides his fate. He squirts what he held inside, ruining his tensed stomach and the sheets. 

He keeps begging the entire time to please make it stop, to please know that he is sorry, to please be gentler. But he doesn’t get it as he orgasms, of course he doesn’t. You want him dry and empty with the knowledge that he will only find pleasure like this with you burned into his mind. This is your way of making sure he is corrupted and loyal to you like a starved man wanting more food.

“Please I’m dizzy, please” he begs, crying miserably. What a cute crybaby he is.

The gentleness comes after when you turn off the toy and throw it to the side, when you wipe the orgasm from his stomach and open the handcuffs. And then you hug him and he finally gets to hug you back, sobbing into your chest as his entire body trembles from what just happened.

“Oh god, oh my god.”

“I’m here. Let it out”, you assure him, holding him close as he pours out his vulnerable heart. 

It is some time past one when he finally calmed down.

“Oh god”, he gets out, shuddering. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Do you love me again?”

“What? Gosh Googie, of course I do. I never stopped loving you.”

“Then I feel better”, he whispers and hugs you closer, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so fucking vulnerable. Oh god, everything is sore and, and warm.”

“Yeah, this was pretty intense. You did really well.”

“I just feel so good when I’m with you”, he presses out and looks up at you. His eyes are devoted and glassy.

“I feel good too, my love.” 

He smiles and you smile too, wiping the remnants of his tears.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Googie.”

“Oh god”, he giggles, kicking his feet, “I feel so good.” 

“Mhm that’s good. Wanna talk about the broken headboard now? You felt a little too good there, didn’t you?” you tease him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. You made me feel so good and I couldn’t control my strength. Just wanted to hold you.”

“Mmh, it’s okay. It’s kinda funny.” You snicker and scrunch your nose. “And hot. My strong hubby.” 

Jungkook giggles, heart fluttering. 

“Yeah, yours. Your hubby. Yours. I love you”, he gets out, heart fluttering even more when you retort it.

“I love you too.”

“And you know that I’m yours?”

“Yes Googie, I do. You’re mine and I’m yours.” “Yeah, forever.”

You and he share a giddy kiss and get comfortable. You slip under his blanket and pull your pillow closer so you can stay on his side. The reason for your minimised space is the huge wet spot Jungkook left on your side. 

“Sorry for dirtying the bed”, he murmurs. 

“Is okay. It’s ruined anyway. I think we smeared your eyeliner everywhere.”

He giggles and hugs you closer, nuzzling his nose against you. You snicker, melting into him.

“Did you like it? I planned it really well”, he fishes for praise.

“I loved it. You look so sexy with my name on your body”, you give him the praise, sending his heart into overdrive, “thank you for your efforts, I really cherish them.”

“Anything for you”, he squeaks out, close to bursting in giddiness. He did enough! You felt his efforts and loved them! Oh, he will fly and dance and sing in his dreams tonight.

You and he are so tired, sleep is just an arm’s length away. Silence would be the most logical thing to share, but Jungkook still has something else to share.

“Do you wanna know something?”

“Yes, tell me.”

“Katy and Joe were really close today when I came over after work. They were this close to holding hands, I think.”

“Oh my god, this is so exciting. I’m telling you, it’s gonna happen this week. They’re gonna hold hands.”

Jungkook agrees with a little excited squeak and a nod of his head. You and he share giggles, nuzzling into each other giddily. You and he feel so good. Not only did you have amazing sex right now and made each other feel like heaven, you even got to have your daily late night snuggles talks.

This is the best ending to an otherwise bad day. Even if you wake up deadly tired the next day. Totally worth it.

[saturnville]

one way | kelvin harrison, jr.

part one

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: nia has kelvin wrapped around his finger. so much so that when he misses her, he goes above and beyond to do something about it. warnings: none wc: 5,341 an: listen to one way by 6lack & tpain. also, I decided to make this a mini series. so, this is some time (an unspecified time) later. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax

Work trips usually thrilled Kelvin. The allure to explore the world on his company’s dollar sparked child-like glee. First-class seats with heated eye masks and champagne, king-sized beds with duvets white as freshly fallen snow, and cuisines so rich in flavor they inspired his dinner menu for his evolving dinner menu back home.

But this work trip was different. 

The clatter of silverware in the hotel restaurant felt deafening. The nightlife of the city below grated his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, mocking him. His eyes found a couple, smiling and twirling on the sidewalk. He was green with envy as visuals of their love blinded him. Even cheesy romantic comedies on free streaming felt empty without someone to giggle over the awkward scenes. 

For the first time, Kelvin didn’t bask in the thrill of the escape from his life back home. He was drowning in the stillness of loneliness. And he hated it. 

-

Once a month, Nia took a Friday off. She dedicated it to deep cleaning her home, doing laundry that may have gotten caught in the crossfire of work and other responsibilities, self-care, and anything else that fit on the long list stamped on the front of her refrigerator. The reset day was often intense and busy. It took a toll on her body, but having everything done by early afternoon was an accomplishment—an accomplishment she celebrated with Chinese food and peach-infused wine. 

Nia sat in the corner of her L-shaped couch, laundry scattered to her left and folded piles on her right. The Lion King played softly in the background as she worked through the last of her baskets, humming along to "Be Prepared." Well, humming might be generous. Kelvin would call it her "tone-deaf symphony," but she didn’t care. 

Folding clothes was tedious—her least favorite chore. Four baskets of proof surrounded her. Her mom loved laundry, but Nia avoided it like the plague, only tackling it when she had no choice.

Mid-hum, her ringtone blared, ear-blitzing and obnoxious. 

She stretched over a pile of clothes, her eyes still glued to the screen, and patted around until her hand found her phone. She swiped and accepted the call without looking at the caller's identification. “Hello?” Her voice was soft but curious, still folding.

“What are you doing?” Kelvin. His voice was low and easy, like a Sunday morning. She shifted in her seat at the sound of his tone scratching a part of her brain she didn’t know could feel an itch. She heard the life of the city bustling in the background. She smiled softly as if he could see her. "Laundry," she replied, still focused on the task. 

“Why? She asked cautiously, wondering why a response didn’t come from him for multiple minutes.  Kelvin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she was met with the pitter-patter of his thumbs against the screen that sounded a lot like her mother’s keyboard when she angrily typed emails to her teachers for not letting her use the bathroom. 

Then, calmly as if it wouldn't change her evening: “Smooth. Pack a bag.” Kelvin had a certain way with words, she noted. Sometimes, he spoke in a way that expected a response to keep a conversation going. But an assertiveness in his voice left no room for response; it was like a four-word monologue that made her stomach clench with equal parts curiosity and the kind of flutter only Kelvin could.

In her shock, she paused. A silence so complete that it hummed through the hair. Then: “What?”

The breath he huffed out told her he didn’t like repeating himself. But, he would have to. He went from sending her cute messages with strings of emojis, declaring he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her, to firmly telling her to pack a bag.

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, his voice unwavering. Her eyebrows raised, and her head jerked back. “Your flight leaves in four hours.”

Nia startled out a laugh, the kind that started in her throat but didn’t quite reach her chest. He had to be kidding. He was quite the jokester, always finding a way to pull her leg. But this was a joke she didn’t want to partake in. “Kelvin, are you—dude, what? Are you serious?”

“I told you I don’t like to lie, Nia,” was his response. She swallowed. “I already booked the ticket. I sent it to your email.”

Silence on the other end stretched again, but he could hear her faint exhale, the sound of a laugh she fought to suppress. “You didn’t even ask me.” How did he know she didn’t have any last-minute plans? Not that she did, but the question would’ve been nice. Her eyes darted to the laundry, trying to determine how many outfits she could make if she decided to go. 

She could hear the smug smile stretching across his lips like a Cheshire cat. Wide and arrogant. “I didn’t have to. But feel free to say no. I can always get a credit. Take a solo trip to Europe, or whatever the hell y'all be doing.” Bastard. 

Nia swallowed thickly. “You’re very sure of yourself,” she managed, but her voice betrayed her without a second thought. 

Kelvin hummed like a preacher in the church.“Yeah,” he replied, the lazy confidence in his voice matched only by the image she conjured of him leaning back, probably smirking like he’d won something big. "I don’t leave room for guessing when it comes to you.” Had God answered her prayers? To have a man be serious about her to where he’d pulled out that heavy-ass credit card and made accommodations for her to be beside him for the weekend. 

Her breath caught. The kind of confidence left her toes curling and her heart sprinting like FloJo. She shifted in her seat again, the sudden heat between her thighs growing warmer by the second. She tried to find her footing and gain a sense of self-control to push back against the storm of him. Nah, he wasn't a storm. He was a hurricane--intense and uncontrollable, with the power to consume her whole. She'd let him. 

"Anyway," he sighed, a soft grunt following as his chair creaked. "The Uber will be there in an hour." 

Nia chuckled breathlessly. Her eyes fell on the half-folded shirt in her lap. He was serious. "You, Kelvin, are impossible." 

Kelvin’s laugh rang through the phone like he knew exactly how she was fighting the urge to drop everything and get to it. "You should probably get to it, Nia. Time's ticking." 

"Yeah, yeah," she said as nonchalantly as she could. She carefully slid off the couch, praying he wouldn't hear her moving at his command. "Now, get off my phone so I can finish what I was doing. Bye, Kelvin." 

"You know, I like how you say my name." Her gasp pulled a chuckle from him. Before he could reply, she pulled her phone away from her ear and pressed the end, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. He played too damn much. 

She dropped her phone on the couch, ignoring its soft click when it collided with the remote, and paced in the living room. Glancing at the clock, she saw forty-five minutes. She could do this. She wasn't a last-minute packer, but Kelvin's urgency made her second-guess every outfit she pulled from her closet. 

"Pack for a weekend getaway," she muttered, grabbing a handful of clothes from the pile. "It's not that hard." Panties, bra, satin pajamas. Would a dress be needed? Of course; what if they went to dinner? Short, long, slit, or no slit? 

Nia dropped her phone, pacing in the living room, pretending this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all week.

She tossed another shirt onto the bed and squinted at it. Was this cute enough? She didn’t even know what they’d be doing—he could’ve been sending her to the middle of nowhere for all she knew. Still, she folded it carefully, like she wasn’t imagining how his arms would feel around her when she landed.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how much you want to be with him already.

With one last glance at the time, she grabbed her bag, mentally telling herself that she could pull this off. She didn’t need to panic. But as the seconds ticked away, she realized one thing was for sure—she wasn’t packing fast enough.

-

Kelvin leaned against the sleek, black SUV, arms crossed and a smile tugging on his lips as he waited. He couldn't remember the last time he was this eager to pick someone up--probably never if he was being honest with himself. 

It wasn't just that she was flying in to see him, though that part made his heart leap. It was the fact that she'd be his in a way she had never been before. No distractions, no hiccups, nothing pulling them away from one another. The thought had been driving him mad since he booked her flight. He imagined every detail his brain could come up with--hearing her call his name from the bathroom as she got ready, watching her nose scrunch as she giggled at awkward scenes in corny romantic comedies, feeling her body against his as she slept, tasting the mint on her lips as his tongue caressed hers. He closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't lose his composure in public, but he was teetering on the edge. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of these thoughts. He grabbed it, a text from her awaiting his attention.

  Almost there. Don't make me wait.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. Nia wouldn't let him get away with anything, mainly not a tease. But he had no plan to keep her waiting. No, there was no time to waste. It wasn't a casual meetup between two old flings because he couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to wait to get home. This was the physical manifestation of his heart's desire coming to fruition. 

It was the culmination of restless nights replaying her laugh in his head, wondering if she fell asleep thinking about him, too. It resulted from careful, meticulous planning, cautious restraint, and self-control that worked together to write a story unfolding better than he could have imagined. 

He typed a quick reply. 

Never. I'll be waiting. 

Everything seemed to slow down when he saw her stepping out through the terminal doors. All he saw was her. She in all her angelic glory. The sun shone brightly, and her nose crinkled as she squinted. Her hair, let loose to do its thing, blew across her face. He could hear her giggle as she swiped the unruly strands from her face. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for him in the sea of bodies. But when her eyes met him, the slight smile on her face grew so big that he could hardly see her eyes. 

"Hey, pretty girl," the words slipped out before he could stop them. His voice was lower than usual, a little raspier, the affection undeniable. 

Nia took a final step toward him, almost chest-to-chest with the man who'd turned her life upside down. She visibly softened beneath his gaze, like an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her shoulders rounded, her complete lips parted, and her eyelashes brushed against the high points of her cheek with every blink she made. God, she was so damn pretty.

"How was the flight?" Kelvin’s words came muffled as he grabbed her carry-on and put it in the backseat, the body of the large truck decreasing the volume of his words. He moved to open the passenger door, which brought 24 white roses, and her favorite candy stopped her in her tracks. Her bottom lip poked out in a slight pout, and she looked at him with gleaming eyes that sparkled like stars.

“Kelvin…” Her voice broke slightly, soft and full of something that tightened his chest. E

“I figured you’d need a proper welcome,” he replied, feigning nonchalance, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him. Her reaction was priceless. If only he could’ve snapped a photo to have it with him forever. “Come on, get in.” Kelvin moved the flowers from her seat, waited for her to adjust, and placed them in her lap. Nia tried to say something, but the words didn’t come. She laughed softly and looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. Her fingers caressed the delicate petals in awe. 

Kelvin closed the door behind her and slid into the driver’s seat, quickly drifting out of the airport parking lot. A comfortable silence settled between them, wrapped around them like a hug. Nia unwrapped the gummy nag, popping one into her mouth. He glanced at her, the dim streetlights playing across her features like a spotlight. She was a one-woman show, and he, her audience, was captured and enticed by everything she did. 

Her soft voice broke through the silence. “Can I hold your hand?” He saw her looking at him through his peripheral vision. She was curious to hear his response but already knew the answer.

Kelvin blinked one, two, three times. His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Huh?”

She turned her head toward him, her expression steady but expectant. “Your hand. Can I hold it?”

His breath hitched like he’d been snatched back, and he fought the smirk tugging at his lips. He reached across the center console without a word, letting his hand fall into hers. Her fingers laced with his, petite and warm. It was simple, but how she looked at their joined hands had him swallowing hard. What could be going on in that pretty little head of hers? His thumb brushed her knuckles, a small act that felt wildly intimate. 

“You’re dangerous, girl,” he murmured, his voice low enough to blend with the hum of the car. Nia tilted her head, brows lifted. “Me? Dangerous?”

He momentarily tore his eyes from the road to look into her eyes as his lips brushed against her knuckles. “Yeah. Got me acting all kinds of soft.” 

It was Nia’s turn to smirk. She hummed, off-key, might he add, and said, “Good. You should be.” 

-

“Not bad,” Nia teased as she circled the hotel room, tossing a small smile over her shoulder. She’d been in her fair share of hotels, but this one took the cake. “It’s beautiful.” Her boots kissed the carpet, which looked new, as none of the fibers were out of place and smelled fresh like daisies. Her purse slid off her shoulder with a thump as she let it fall against the couch. Her fingers ran across the top of the pillows, her nails catching slightly in their loose threads. 

Kelvin leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following her every move. He couldn’t help but feel like the smile she tossed over her shoulder was meant for him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, even if she weren’t looking.

Nia turned left and took two steps, her stride slow and deliberate as she approached the window. Her eyes widened like she’d seen Christmas lights for the first time as she drank in the wonder of New York City. With her forehead pressed against the cool glass, she craned her neck back and forth to embrace the beauty of the fast-paced life. The muffled sound of car engines and honking horns hummed harmoniously, with the air conditioning system blending into the background. She was in awe of New York. He was in awe of her.

“This is my first time in New York,” Nia said once she sensed his presence behind her. She sighed softly, her breath creating a small circle of fog on the glass. She drew a smiley face in its wake, then wrapped her arms around herself, massaging her elbows in a twisting motion as if she needed comfort. “I dreamt about it, but it always seemed out of reach.” Kelvin acknowledged her with a nod that she couldn’t see. She felt the warmth radiating from his body and leaned back to experience just a spark of the flame. His chin on her shoulder made her knees buckle, to which she leaned back, letting his firm body carry her weight. 

He knew she’d never been. Though he selfishly wanted to see her, he knew she’d never been to New York. In his mind, killing two birds with one stone seemed feasible. It made sense. He got what he wanted, and she got to experience an environment that seemed a universe away. But she didn’t need to know all of that. So instead, he let his hand trail down her arm and settle hand as he whispered against the shell of her ear, “I know.”

-

The sound of the water shutting off echoed through the hotel suite, and Kevin was there, adjusting his suit jacket in the mirror. Nimble fingers stumbled over each button, trying to force it between each loop. He didn’t hear her step out, but he knew the moment she did—there was no mistaking it. The soft rustle of the towel and the scent of vanilla and cedarwood filled the room like a gentle caress. His pulse quickened. 

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of her reflection. She stepped out of the bathroom, her towel barely hanging, just low enough to tease. His eyes traced the curve of her silhouette, the way her skin glowed, damp and soft as she had just walked out of his dreams. There was something about the way she didn’t rush to cover herself. She moved confidently as she knew exactly what effect she had on him—and she wasn’t shy about it.

He couldn’t help but watch as she glanced at him through the mirror, her brown eyes locking with his. Her lips twitched into that playful smile he adored, and for a split second, he wondered if she could see how badly he wanted her. He cleared his throat, running a hand over his jacket again, though the tension in the room wasn’t about fabric anymore. It was about the two of them, the space between them shrinking by the second.

She shifted, pulling her towel just a little tighter, though she didn’t seem to be in a rush to move away from him. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You're still here?" she asked, her voice teasing but soft like she was giving him the green light to stay. The soft pitter-patter of her feet against the tile floor made his eyes drop. Her nails were painted red, a rich shade that complimented her skin beautifully. His eyes fluttered closed briefly as he inhaled deeply.

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes, his voice low, full of intention. “I’m admiring the view.”

Her gaze flickered over him, and for the first time, he saw her let her guard slip. She didn’t avert her eyes or try to hide how she was taking him in. No, she leaned into it—allowing him to see the hunger in her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly. Any other day, if he caught her gaze lingering longer than usual, she’d stall like a deer in headlights, like a criminal caught for petty theft. She was letting him watch her.

A beat passed, and she caught his eye again in the mirror without warning. And just like that, something shifted. The way Nia held his gaze told him she was just as comfortable with him in the room. The quiet, simmering tension between them cracked, and she said it—soft and unexpectedly as if it had slipped out without thinking. “Help me with my zipper?” 

Kelvin didn’t have the chance to answer. The casual nature of her movements let him know it wasn’t a question but an expectation to be fulfilled. And yet, even with her confidence boiling over like a kettle too whole, he had not expected her to release her towel like she was the only one in the room. Kelvin’s lips parted to release a shuddered breath he prayed only he could hear. 

She was brilliant; she’d already shimmied her way into her panties, presumably in the shower, but everything else was exposed, well, almost. He’d seen more skin than he’d ever had throughout their relationship, which was deliciously overwhelming. Her hips bit the waistband of the thin panties and hardly held everything she had.

Nia held the towel over her breasts and looked around for her moisturizer. She mumbled incoherent words to herself, lost in her world as though the man she shared a space with wasn’t losing his inhibitions with every passing second. “Kel.” He was pulled out of Lalaland. “My dress is on top of my suitcase. Can you grab it for me?” 

Gladly. He needed a moment to collect himself before he went ballistic. Turning on the balls of his feet, Kelvin did as she instructed. The dress was nothing he’d ever expect her to wear, but he was more than ready to see how the sleek, green dress would accentuate her curves and glisten against her skin. 

“This is nice,” he mumbled, carrying it back into the bathroom. Nia turned over her shoulder and smiled. That Colgate-white smile. His right released the hanger from the confines of the dress, tugging softly at the zipper. She took it from his grasp gently, whispering her gratitude, and shimmied into it. Dear God. 

“I think you have a staring problem,” Nia teased, locking eyes with him in the mirror as she adjusted the dress to cover her breasts. Kelvin’s head tilted to the side and his tongue ran over his top row of teeth. He shook his head. “Like I said, admiring the view.” 

“Zip me, please?” She asked to his reflection in the mirror, shamelessly dragging her eyes down his frame. How much tighter could his clothes get in one night? Kelvin’s steps were slow and calculated as he inched closer to her. As the distance between them closed, the tension amplified further than it had thus far. 

Nia shuddered in anticipation as she felt his warm hands against the small of her back. His hands were large, palms covering a quarter of her lower back. His thumb caressed the skin there, pausing over the faded tattoo. “Cute,” he murmured. Lover, written in a cursive script. His left hand found her waist, holding and cupping in an almost possessive manner, while his right slowly, almost agonizingly slow, pulled her zipper up. His fingertips lingered at the back of her neck, enjoying how the skin raised and how her pulse quickened beneath them. 

His lips parted, but the words were lost. Here she was, back pressed against him, chest heaving, eyes fluttering as she anticipated what would happen next. Hell, he didn’t know either, but what he was sure of was the way she tasted had to be glorious. “You look beautiful.” His sentiment came out in a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear, to which she whimpered. “So beautiful.” 

Kelvin’s lips hovered over her neck, just hardly grazing her hot skin. Once by her side, her hands gripped the countertop to steady her weak knees. Kelvin saw them in the mirror, and a devil-may-care smile threatened to curl on his lips. He could take her right here. Take off her dress—better yet, have it bunched around her hips as he took her from behind, forcing her to watch how pretty she looked when she was begging for more. But it was too early for that. He’d turn her every way but loose, but the time wasn’t right, no matter how badly he wanted to yank the clock off the wall and force its hands forward. 

“I thought you had manners, Nia, what happened?” He teased, nibbling on the shell of her ear. His hand slithered around her back and toward her stomach until it settled at her pubic bone, dangerously close to where the slit of her dress was. One deliberate move, and she’d be his for the taking. “I said, you look beautiful. So pretty.” 

Nia inhaled deeply, and her voice broke slightly. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her tongue darted out to dampen her dry lips. “Thank you, baby.” Baby? That was new.  He smirked against her skin. He had her where he wanted her, yearning for him, but not to where a line would be crossed. A happy (temporary) medium. Before he got too deep and said screw the reservation, Kelvin announced: “Reservation’s in 30. I’ll let you finish.” With one last peck on her neck, he peeled his body away from hers and walked out of the bathroom, but not before digesting the low moan she released once she thought he was far enough. Ravishing. 

She determined Kelvin would be the death of her. He was too much for her to handle, too hot for her to handle. She’d done well thus far, but as the night progressed and the fiery tension between them loomed like precipitous clouds, ready to rain down upon them, she didn’t know how long she could hold out. 

She had a rule, and he knew it. But goodness gracious, she was ready to renege on everything she said when she stepped out of the bathroom and saw him posted against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, neck dropped, to better access what was on his phone. 

Blue was his color. And it happened to be her favorite. Part of her assumed his sneaky ass wore the rich shade of blue to get her bent out of shape…or bent over. But this was Kelvin—cool, calm, and way too aware of the effect he had on her. The tailored suit he wore accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist. 

Her throat went dry as she traced his slim form. The low light from the chandelier shone on him like a spotlight, his waves catching the rays. He had an alluring presence that she was desperate to be wrapped in. 

Kelvin glanced up, sensing her presence before she could speak. He smiled small, acknowledging her presence. His eyes swept over her frame, nodding in appreciation of the art before him. Somehow, she managed to look even more stunning than she did before. Her dress pooled at her ankles, but the slit on her left thigh allowed the gold accents on her shoes to shine. Her curly hair was in a slick bun, showing her neck and gorgeous collarbones. “You good?”

Good? Was she good? Hell no, she wasn’t good. Her body was buzzing like an electric wire. She was losing self-control and hardly wanted to go to dinner. She’d much instead release everything she’d been attempting to suppress. But he’d already seen her crumble. She couldn’t fully unravel yet. His head was already big; Lord forbid she gas it further. 

“I’m good,” Nia lied, tucking her clutch under her arm. “You clean up nice. I like the blue.” Kelvin’s head dropped to examine his suit. It was as if he had dressed in the dark and hoped all the pieces matched. “This old thing? Thank you. But you, Niani…look like trouble.”

Her eyes closed briefly. No one said her full name. She didn’t like how anyone else said it—too much emphasis on the second A or insufficient focus on the first I. She liked how Kelvin said it, like a subtle praise she desired to hear on repeat. 

Kelvin tilted his head, pushing off the wall to invade her space. She opened her eyes when his cologne wafted her nose. He noticed it. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her chest rose slightly higher on her next breath. One by one, the walls began to fall. Her reaction wasn’t lost on him. The first time she admitted Nia wasn’t her first name but rather a nickname derived from Niani, he tested it like an unusual food, rolling it around, tasting it until he felt right. He remembered how her pupils dilated, and her eyes darkened when it rolled off his lips. 

She liked it when he said her name. And only he could say her name. 

His hand grazed hers, intertwining their fingers. She flinched. He smiled knowingly, but her request took him aback: “Say it again.” Her breath was caught in her throat, and her voice trembled. 

Kelvin leaned in just a little, his breath warm against her ear. The way he said it, low and possessive, made her shiver. Nia swallowed. Her knees were weak, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, teetering on the edge, waiting for the right time to fall into him entirely. 

He smiled again, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of what was coming. "Dinner’s wait—“

“—take me to bed.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a demand as if she knew exactly what would happen next, and yet... part of her still wanted to hold on just a little longer.

Her words were not hesitant, but he could hear how her voice trembled. She’d permitted him to take things further. He wouldn’t go too far but far enough to leave her satisfied. 

-

Nia hummed lowly as her heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly, and she struggled to regain her vision. The chandelier grew tired, leaving the room dimly lit with the city lights. The low buzz of the air conditioning system regulated her overwhelmed body. 

She sat up with a soft grunt, bracing her body with one arm while her other kept the angelic white duvet over her bare chest. Her head craned to the right, seeing the bed bare, and frowned. Her eyes followed their clothes trail, leading to him standing in the corner of the room, back to her, and the hotel phone up to his ear. Like her, his evening attire was long gone, and sweatpants became his uniform. Nia bit her lip as she watched his back flex with each subtle movement. 

She swung her legs over the bed, bending down to fish for an article of clothing to put on. He may have had a show, but with the windows wide open, the last thing she needed was her bare body on display for everyone to see. What she had was for his eyes only. 

Nimble fingers curled around his white dress shirt, sliding it over her long arms. She buttoned it enough to keep her chest covered, then tip-toed to where he stood, eager to feel him against her again. 

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his bare waist, taking note of how he shuddered when the tips of her nails glided across his abdomen. Nia’s lips brushed against his shoulder, and then she pressed her cheek against his back, appreciating how the low rumble of his voice lulled her back to sleep. “That’s fine. Appreciate it, thank you.” 

Kelvin dropped the phone back on the receiver and peered over his shoulder. “Hello to you, too.” Kelvin turned one foot over the other in her arms, taking in how relaxed she looked. Her makeup was smudged, and her lipstick stained the pillow, leaving her lips bare and waiting to be kissed. “Food’s on its way up.” 

Nia nodded and made a noise, something between a content sigh and a low moan. He couldn’t decipher, but she sounded pleased, and that’s what mattered. “Come back to bed in the meantime?” She looked at him with those pretty brown eyes that had gotten him into trouble lately. 

Kelvin nodded, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Lead the way.”

-

kelvharrjr, nikkidawn, angierose, and 319 others liked this post

nianijanice wine, broadway, and tailored suits. nyc, I love you

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angierose girl who tf is that man?

- nianijanice my secret admirer

kelvharrjr nyc looks good on you, shawty

- nianijanice thank you, handsome

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nikkidawn girl…is it who I think it is?

- nianijanice 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

- nikkidawn CALL ME NOW! 🌝

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[marshmallowcheeps]

Welcome to Lamb's baby shower, this is an event that takes place before Lari's birth, Lamb and Narinder's first born!

During this event I'll open the Cheeps ask box for 3 days, it's up to you to send fun gifts for the Lamb which I'll be replying to with their reaction and cute drawings!

Anon will be on if you're shy as well

"How do I send my gift?"

Simple! just send in an ask like "I gift the Lamb a lifetime supply of diapers" or "Congratulations leader! Here's my gift of a delicious snail pie!", the gift can be absolutely anything! You can roleplay as a follower, your own OC, or just say a random gift, Images are also permitted but not necessary, Keep in mind I'll be drawing out the asks.

"Are there rules?"

There are only two rules for this event: To keep things SFW, and to not name Lari. We may know about all the cheeps right now, but this is set before Lari even had her name decided, so to keep things making some sense, just call her "the baby" :3

You are allowed to send more than one ask!

Event timeline

The askbox will be open from the moment this post is sent, it'll remain open for 2 more days, today counting as the first, and will close December 4th around 6 PM GMT -3, I will start posting the reactions to the gifts on Dec. 5th and by the 9th I should be done posting them all

I'll try to get to all asks but it'll depend on how many I can physically complete, it depends on how many asks I get

I've been planning this little event for a month now, so do have fun with your asks <3

[burreauxwrites]

“LOATHING” - (joe burrow x oc)

CHAPTER THREE - “thru the phone”

word count: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ (MDNI)! perv!joe, a wet dream happens, joe has a voice kink, jerking off, over the phone stuff…joe is just really horny this chapter 😭

winnie sighs as she walks into her physics class, spotting a seat next to joe and getting her things out. she had been pushed and almost trampled by all the tall students roaming the halls. it was annoying, but thankfully, she made it.

“god, winnie,” joe snickers, looking at winnie’s disheveled and frustrated appearance, “you look like you just woke up.”

“well. i did. but also, people roam the halls with no sense of awareness,” she groans, putting her book on top of her desk, “or urgency.”

joe chuckles, knowing that winnie hates getting to her classes. even when they were in middle school together, winnie struggled with transitioning between classes.

“yeah? well, that’s the life of a student for you.” he nudges her shoulder, getting a small smile from her.

oddly enough, there’s something about winnie. he’s not sure if it's the fact that she styles her hair, or if she does a bit of makeup, or if it’s her fidgeting. maybe it’s the small pout she does when focusing. but she looks…pretty. really pretty.

joe watches as kaori continues getting her things out, deciding to take a brief moment to speak up.

“hey…you got a volleyball game today, right?”

winnie looks at joe, nodding with a smile. “mhm…why?”

joe grins, raising an eyebrow. “i’m gonna come and watch.”

her gaze softens. truth be told, she really did want joe to be there. she would never say that part out loud, of course. that’s straight up embarrassing. but hearing that he’ll be attending the game did make her heart swell with joy.

“really?” she asks, leaning back in her seat, “i’ll hold you to that.”

“trust me. i’ll always be around if it means i’m supporting you.” joe affirms, his eyes gleaming with a specific fondness to them.

for a moment, a brief moment, the both of them were locking eyes. they may have been looking at each other for longer than necessary, but they couldn’t look away. it’s like they were magnetized.

the bell rings, interrupting their moment. despite this, they share a brief smile, their faces both being bright red.

———————

winnie was warming up with the team as more and more people filled the gym. saying she was nervous would be an understatement. nonetheless, she’s aware of what she needs to do. after all, she finally made the team! this was the exact moment that she’s been waiting for.

as she practices hitting and serving the ball, she notices joe walk in with his friends, ja’marr and justin. his hair is styled with a few curls against his forehead, and he is wearing a sweatshirt with some black joggers. though his outfit is simple, winnie finds it…attractive?

no. snap out of it winnie. now is not the time to be ogling your friend.

as she continues warming up, her friend alina noticed her staring.

“winnie,” she asks, “you don’t happen to like joe, do you?”

with a pause, winnie holds the ball, looking at alina in shock; she wasn’t expecting that question from her.

“no. we’re just friends. why?”

alina rolls her eyes, “just friends my ass.”

in an exasperated sigh, winnie serves the ball over the net. “we are! we go way back. we had a falling out, but we rekindled our friendship.”

“and? i just saw the way you looked at him.”

huh. she did? winnie didn’t think she was that obvious. nonetheless she shrugs. “i mean. it’s normal to find your friend good looking.”

“well,” alina pauses, looking at joe for a minute before looking back at winnie, “you do know that you’ll have to deal with emma, right? she’s crazy obsessed with joe.”

she scowls a little at that. that was a very true statement. winnie isn’t dumb; she’s aware of the fact that many women are attracted to joe on campus. and sometimes, he plays into their attraction. it was something she never ever understood, but she just knew that it was something that he did.

as far as emma goes, she stops at nothing when it comes to getting what she wants. she’d beg, borrow, steal, lie…whatever it takes. but winnie doesn’t get why that bothers her so much. her and joe are only friends, so even if emma does want joe, she shouldn’t care…right?

with a small shrug of her shoulders, winnie speaks, “she can have him.”

alina scoffs, knowing that winnie is putting up a front. she doesn’t press on the subject anymore though.

meanwhile, in the stands, joe was…struggling. ja’marr and justin were laughing about something, probably a dumb instagram post or video. but he couldn’t help but focus on winnie as she warms up.

the way her hair is tied back and her stare is so focused. it’s attractive to joe. but even worse (or better), it was something about those shorts she was wearing. they hugged her curves in the best way possible, leaving nothing to his imagination.

in a way, joe felt guilty for being the perv he was being. this is his friend he’s thinking about. but with winnie looking the way she does? he’s a goner.

“joe…? joe!”

snapping from his thoughts, joe looks at justin and ja’marr. “huh…?”

“you good? you were staring hella hard at winnie,” justin chuckles.

“eh. can’t say i blame him.” ja’marr shrugs, causing joe to slap his hand against his chest roughly.

“i was not staring.” joe denies, shaking his head and folding his arms.

justin puts his hands up. “i’m not judging, man. i mean, she does look pretty good from here.”

joe huffs, waving their words off. “okay, guys that’s enough. i was looking for a very brief moment.”

and as if on cue, justin and ja’marr share a glance at each other. without words, they seem to agree that joe isn’t being smooth like he thinks he is.

———————

their hands were all over each other’s bodies, their lips floating across the other’s skin. the feeling of winnie’s nails dragging along joe’s arms made him shiver, his spine tingling from the excitement and pleasure.

“god…joe,” winnie gasps, straddling joe’s lap as the two sit on his bed.

joe chuckles, his hand on her hip slowly drifting down to her panty-clad core and rubbing very small circles. just small enough to suffice, but still be a tease. and the sensation makes her legs jolt slightly, her lips slightly parted as a breathy “oh, fuck” leaves them.

“you have no idea what it does to me, seeing you in your cute little skirts and stuff,” he whispers, watching as winnie begins to grind against his hand slightly, “or…maybe you do have an idea.”

he takes his free hand, cupping her breast gently under her bra. a soft hum of approval at the soft, supple skin, his thumb massaging her nipple. “the way you act so innocent and nonchalant…but you and i both know what you want.”

winnie’s body trembles at joe’s teasing words and touches, her mind cloudy with nothing but thoughts of him. thoughts about his hands and his lips, thoughts of his eyes piercing into her.

“joe…please,” winnie mewls, looking at joe with a dazed, love drunk look.

“please what?” joe, smirks, leaning in towards winnie’s ear, “if you want me to fuck you, then you better say it loud and clear.”

and with that, winnie wastes no time, nodding and looking at joe, “yes…yes, please, joe! i-i want…need you to fuck me so bad,” she begs, her breath hitching with every pinch and touch joe leaves on her sensitive frame.

“alright, princess. but only because you asked so nicely.”

as joe hooks his fingers around winnie’s underwear-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

joe shoots up from his bed, looking over at his clock on his nightstand and groaning. he slams his hand on it, turning it off and rubbing his hands over his eyes. he looks down and…

holy shit.

whatever that dream was, it did a number on him. he groans, looking at his morning wood in frustration. having a wet dream about your friend and now having to deal with a boner because of it was not on his bucket list.

he looks down and notices that winnie is calling. and so, he picks up the phone.

“hey, winnie…what’s up?” he asks, still drowsy and annoyed from his dream.

“not much, just…wanted to talk to you. i know we have a physics test soon and i was wondering if we could go over some stuff?”

of course, winnie was up early. studying. but she sounds so pretty and charming, like usual. it pisses joe of to no end, but it also…arouses him.

“sure,” joe nods, his hand slowly, oh so slowly moving down his body, “care to tell me what you remember so far?”

“yeah,” winnie answers, and joe can hear her rummaging through some notes, “so, we’re going over thermodynamics…”

joe would occasionally nod and go along as winnie spoke, hooked on every word she’d say. and he knows that this would be a perverted thing to do, but he can’t help it. not when winnie sounds so perfect.

his hand gently wrapped around his cock, and he swipes some of the pre-cum off the tip. he lets out a small groan as winnie continued going over her notes, stroking his length. the reality of what he’s doing causes his cheeks to turn red, but he doesn’t feel like stopping; he’s too entranced by her to stop. and plus he needs to release some tension from that wet dream.

“there are four different thermodynamic processes, and-”

“fuck…” joe moans, perhaps too loudly. because there’s a moment of lingering silence. “um-”

“joe…are you…jerking off?”

shit. he’s been caught. he can’t lie. winnie isn’t that dumb. she may be a virgin, but she’s not stupid.

“um…yeah?”

“oh…” winnie murmurs, though she doesn’t sound disgusted. rather…intrigued? she eventually speaks, “uh…so should i keep speaking, or…?”

“god, yes…keep talking,” joe nods, sounding a bit desperate, not that he cares.

though joe couldn’t see it, winnie’s cheeks were dusted over with a slight pink shade. she’s never had anyone be aroused by her voice, but it feels…nice? and besides, it’s joe.

“okay…so as i was saying, there’s four thermodynamic processes…”

soon enough, winnie could hear joe’s heavy breathing through her phone. the way he mumbled out small hums and curses made the hair on her body stand up. the thought if having such an effect on someone was a different, but good feeling. even if it was just a friend.

with a loud groan, joe finally comes, riding out his orgasm as spurts of cum land on his stomach and wrist. once he finished, he sighs, resting against his pillow.

“so…you good now?” winnie asks, waiting for joe’s response.

“yeah,” he pants out, “i am…thanks for helping out with that, baby.”

baby…? the name caused winnie’s heart to thump, and she didn’t know how to respond, other than a small “you’re welcome.”

joe looks at his phone, his eyes widening. “shit. i’m supposed to meet justin and ja’marr for breakfast,” he says, quickly sitting up and using some tissue to wipe himself off. “i’ll talk with you soon, okay, winwin?”

“okay…bye!” winnie replies, to which joe bids his farewell too, and hangs up.

as for winnie, she sits on her bed with her notes. her face is warm and her legs clenched together.

it seems like she too has her own little problem now.

we are so back guys :]

[meo-eiru]

Recently I’ve started to think about my oc interacting with yours and I’ve found that her interactions with Micah are hilarious.

Like, due to ~trauma~ she refuses to let anyone get close to her, but she does it in a weird way. Instead of being distant and broody, she wears this aloof, dumb smile on her face and is seemingly friendly. Seemingly because talking to her is like talking to a brick wall as she’s the most bland and unresponsive person possible. And it just leads to the funniest interactions because Micah is trying to play a game here, and she just, does not play along. In the most frustrating way possible.

Say Ardor just ended up at the church as a wanderer and the nuns decide to take her in for a bit. She does her fair share and does it with a smile. Strangely, despite the nuns tendency to gossip, they seem to almost immediately forget about her or just stop caring. Micah was already interested in this stranger and this makes him decide to investigate. He quickly learns why she’s been forgotten.

First attempt at conversation.

Micah: Oh, hello there. You must be the stranger the nuns have been talking about, I don’t believe we’ve met, I am father Micah.

Ardor: (Nods) Ardor. :>

Micah: It is a delight to have you here, I see you’ve taken a liking to the garden as well. I find flowers to be quite interesting, their beautiful yet delicate nature is captivating. Pray tell, do you have a favorite flower?

Ardor: … (long pause as if she’s thinking about it.)

Ardor: No.

Micah: … I see, may I ask why…?

Ardor: … (another long pause as if thinking)

Ardor: Eh. (Shrugs) :>

Micah: … (slightly more strained) Is there a flower in this garden that has caught your eye?

Ardor: … (long pause again, she looks around at the flowers.)

Ardor: No.

Micah: … That is perfectly fine, how about you join me for tea?

Ardor: No. (immediate answer this time)

Micah: … Pardon?

Ardor: Tea’s gross, bye. (She walks off)

And it continues like that until she just up and leaves one day without any warning. Because she also doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so she’s just gone one day and he’s left so confused and frustrated.

THAT'S SO FUNNY LMAOO

Micah couldn't even get the chance to properly get obsessed and manipulate you into staying with him poor guy

Literally didn't even give the poor guy anything to work with, it makes me wonder which one of my boys that type of person would like best lmao

[earthnashes]

Hello there! If I may ask about your oc Sakura, how did you go about conceptualizing her? Was there any characters or media that inspired her design? How did her character change to what it is now? Apologies for this many questions, feel free to choose just one when you have time; love your work!

Hello! You may indeed ask about my baby! 🥹

So for context, Feathers and Flowers' birthing concept was about a girl summoning a demon because she was lonely but too shy to make her own friends, so she concludes summoning a demon would somehow be easier. In that iteration of the story, Sakura was meant to be a side character; a friend to the main characters that acted as the ultimate foil to basically everyone around her. She combated Kaela's crippling anxiety by being confident and overwhelmingly outgoing, contrasted Evangeline's bossy, bitchy attitude with being kind and friendly, and be the opposite of Mal's stoic, silent character with being expressive and chatty. I also needed a character that could conveniently know enough about niche media to reasonably be able to help Kaela summon her demon in the first place, so I ended up making her a huge geek: she loved anime, video games, and had knowledge on obscure things... including occult summonings xD

So I worked off that idea to form her appearance. Again her core direction was to be a foil to all of the main cast: Kaela was short and soft. Evangeline was tall and thin. Mal was tal and hard. I wanted Sakura to be the biggest character, so she originally started started out compact and wide. Her face was what I started with: I wanted her to look somewhat like an anime character, and her inspiration was based off of the older episodes of Dragonball, Pokemon, Tenchi Muyo, Ranma, Inuyasha. I basically wanted her to have Goku vibes (his wide dark eyes, his big smile, his open and easy personality) but with Inuyasha's hairstyle (she originally had long hair).

But then the story changed; it wasn't about a demon being summoned in a silly slice-of-life story but a Spirit getting lost in a magical modern era, still very much slice of life.

That ultimately shifted Sakura's design into something more athletic; football specifically. I wanted her to keep her dorky traits but pair it with the popular star athlete trope, so she became leaner, taller, and more "top heavy". She also became more oblivious; she remained sweet and friendly and outgoing, but in turn she didn't understand when someone liked her. In fact she was later canonized to be asexual originally didn't have romance planned for her character.

Fastforward to now: the story of F&F has changed again. While the core remains mostly the same (found family), it ironically shifted into something much closer to one of the earlier concepts of the story; something more serious and not slice of life, something that focuses more on the good and bad of a world instead of being predominantly lighthearted. So with that change the characters had to get a tune-up to their characterizations. Sakura received the biggest change, I think.

Her core remains true: she's relentlessly kind, expressive, a dork. But I decided to make that her biggest strength and her biggest flaw, as well as making her loving personality be conflicted by how the world views her by changing her appearance. That's how we get current Sakura: she's kind, she's loving, she wants to help others. But people think she's a threat, a ticking timebomb, because of what she is. So her once open smile is now more manufactured, a wall to protect herself, a farce to try and make herself look less like a threat. She's now a pushover; she can't establish her boundaries without it being misinterpreted as being aggressive, so her coping mechanism is to grin and bear it. She can't get visiblt upset or angry, so she has to fight for calm to have even the smallest chance of being listened to. She's "nice" because it's all she's allowed to be.

Hence her appearance change! She is now the largest character in the main roster, the physically strongest. Her smile is now "tainted" by sabre teeth she can't hide, her size contradicts her gentle nature.

It's late for me so I'm sure I forgot a few things but that's what I got for now! If you're interested I could show older concept work of Sakura to illustrate how she looked then vs how she looks now too. But ye! Thank you so much for asking about my character! 🥹🙏

[random-fandom1984]

Hi!! 😆

May I request TFP Yandere Soundwave x human reader?

Thank for reading this (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง✨

Sorry if it doesn't have that much yandere as you were hoping for.

Okay, so, the only way I can see that you could've gotten his attention is either you're related to one of the three human charges – family or friend. Because of that, you don't know about the Autobots and Decepticons.

Soundwave was given the mission to find out more about the human pets, through humans that are close to them. Out of all of their family and friends, he chose you.

He only went through some of your info, and you're a friend of Miko's host parents that lives in a state up north, in Gravity Falls, Oregon (Yes, I'm making a little crossover with GF, but TFP came out 2 years before Gravity Falls existed, so Weirdmageddon hasn't happened yet, nor have the Pine Twins visited yet.)

You've met Miko a few times when you've came to visit, and it's best to say you don't like how loud, irresponsible, foolish, and doesn't understand people's boundaries. You were a rather quiet introverted person, and she was an overbearing extrovert, so you two didn't mix well.

When it was Christmas last year, they were at your family gathering, and she almost got your cousins hurt with firecrackers, who were mainly toddlers and young children. She even said, quote-unquote, that "They needed to live a little and not have helicopter parents deciding everything for them." The thing was that your aunts and uncles weren't helicopter parents, they were normal, calm, and understanding parents!

Miko was one of the main reasons why you lost faith in humanity, and you despised her with a burning passion. You even told this to her in her face, but she would say that you're just grumpy and should take a nap. As if you were a little child that didn't know better!

You work as an online artist that takes request for people who can't draw certain things like, animals, details, DND characters, Oc's etc.

As time went on, he was starting to get obsessed with learning more about you, and he knows more about you than anyone else you know in your life. Your favorite animal are birds, your favorite color is d/s/f/c (Dark Shade of Favorite Color), you hate people, don't like talking, have a pet European Starling named Jermey, after the crow in the Secret of Nimh because of his love for shiny and sparkly things, who is also the model for your watermarks on your designs, you like dying your hair, and so much more.

You were having a normal day, doing a live stream as you were taking requests from your viewers, when this one person in particular to do a city made out of metal, the people are robots that can transform, and even gave you an image that they "made" that was called Kaon. Interested, you took up this challenge.

It was safe to say that Soundwave wasn't disappointed with the end results of it; It looked magnificent. The image of his home was nostalgic of the good old days of Cybertron, when it wasn't just him and Laserbeak, when all of his children minicons were still alive.

The two of you kept in contact and became friends on the internet. You would tell each other about how your days went; you were told that he works as one of the higher ups in a company, has to deal with an annoying, loud, arrogant assistant of his boss – reminds you of a certain someone –, has a pet bird, is introverted, doesn't talk, doesn't like humanity- you're already hooked.

You turned a blind eye to things, like how he somehow knows where you live, find out about private accounts on social media, knows that you're talking to someone even when there's barely any people around, kind of seeming jealous/overprotective over text. The hardest one to do is when someone insults or steals your art, only to end up severely or lightly wounded somewhere between the next day to the end of the week, saying that a robot version of Slenderman or a metal bird that has an origami themed shape, etc.

There were a few things that caught your attention. How he uses the wrong terminology for things such as units time, parts of the body, even saying organics, fleshies, humans instead of people or others by their names. You were suspicious but brushed it off every time it happens.

At the beginning of Soundwave's his sire growing obsession, Laserbeak didn't even understand what was so great about you. But it changed when he was shot down by Autobots and landed out in the woods, you found him, and repaired him. During his stay, he made friends with Jeremy, and during repairs, you were gentle as you could be when fixing him up, your touched were light, you asked if what you were doing was alright, and he honestly thought of those human films where the mother would help their child when they get an injury. In this situation, he was your the child, and you were his the mother; he understood now.

Knowing Laserbeak's existence was the reason why it was a little hard to turn a blind eye to those that were injured.

When Laserbeak returned, he gave the information to Soundwave, and that's when Soundwave knew that you were the one to complete the family.

When the both of you actually met face-to-face is when you texted him that an ex of yours came back is so persistent on getting back together and won't leave you alone. When it was night, your ex cornered you, and was ranting on and on about how you should be grateful that he's giving you a second chance, even though you were the one to break up with him, only to end up dead on the pavement. You looked up to see Soundwave himself.

The first thought that came to mind didn't revolve around fear. No! It was 'Oh, god, he looks hot-'

So, you were taken aboard the Nemesis, you became a part of the Con Crew. 1.) Because you're close, in a way, to one of the Autobot's human pets; 2.) You hated humans just as much as they did; 3.) It's Soundwave. Megatron trusts him with any decision of his. A reason Soundwave gave, in public? A human to spy on the Autobots- Shut the fuck up random Vehicon, this is a human spy, not Makeshift. This isn't like Starscream's plan.

This happened only a day after Optimus Prime became Orion Pax. Soundwave had a feeling that something might happen, so he had you wear something that will cover up everything, mainly your head/face. He knows the archivist is smart, and if he were to revert back to Optimus, then he would recognize who you are.

Often times, some Vehicons would make comments about a human joining the ranks, or try to get rid of you, and they were met with an electric end.

It was only about a week later, after Orion became Optimus again, when they decided how they were going to get you in their base, and with the help of the newly arrived Dreadwing, they can do just that.

Part 2 coming soon...

So, basically this was a yandere x willing reader. I just hope you're satisfied.

[lilbardrhi]

"Broken", Not Stupid - Nesting Suppplies (Bonus)

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: Um... hello, my 100+ followers... holy shit >.> Let's celebrate with a bonus part! Thank you all for being here <3 and happy new year, everyone!

<Johnny.

>L.T.

<Smartass. I need your help. <What the hell do omegas need for their nests? Pillows and blankets but what else?

>L.T. >Did you find an omega?

<In a way, yes.

>Did you go to Salvation?!

<Yes. There's a lot to it but for now I just need you to help me gather things for a nest. <We're going shopping.

>HELL YEAH!!!!! >I'll be at yours in about 15!

<Johnny, just meet me at the shops. <Johnny.

"Dammit," Simon grumbles.

The idiot already got in his truck, Simon's sure of it. Johnny may struggle with over excitement and ADHD, but he's anal about no phones while driving. He'll even make someone pull over so he can drive if he catches the driver with their phone. Even did it to Simon. Only once. Simon hasn't touched his phone while driving since.

As soon as Johnny arrives, Simon drops an extra bit of kibble and a few treats in Selene's dish before joining Johnny in his truck. The door is barely closed before Johnny's spouting off questions.

"Johnny! One question at a time," Simon snaps then takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. He hadn't meant to snap at the man; he's just overwhelmed as is. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. Apologies are still a work in progress for him.

"Nah, I'm sorry, Si. I can see how stressed you are," Johnny says with a concerned frown. "What's going on?"

As Johnny begins driving into town, Simon explains what he knows and the alarms that go off in his head while he's on the facility's property. For the first time in a long time, Johnny is quiet. Even when Simon stops talking, Johnny is deadly quiet.

"What's her name?" Johnny asks finally, eyes on the road and shoulders tense.

"I don't think she knows. Introduced herself as 'UK-009-0013' or '13' and said nothing about an actual name. She doesn't even seem bothered by being called a number."

"I see," Johnny says softly. "Well, let's make sure she'll be comfortable in her new home."

The two men fall into a thoughtful silence for the rest of the drive. Once they reach the shops in town, Simon seems on edge again.

"What am I even supposed to get her? I can't get her clothes, I don't know her size-"

"Just give her some of your clothes. At least to come home in," Johnny shrugs. "Maybe it'll make her more comfortable. Having your scent prior to arriving could make a difference. If you're worried about nesting supplies, that would be easier. For now, since you don't know her favorite colors or textures, just get colors that will remind her of you and stick to textures that are maybe even softer than you are comfortable with."

"How do you know these things?" Simon asks with a sigh as they enter a shop.

"Research," Johnny shrugs. "And both of my sisters are omegas. So I learned from seeing them grow up. Mum also taught me by dragging me along with the three of them to shop. Hated it at the time, but I couldn't be more grateful now," he says with a smile.

"And you don't have an omega... why?"

Johnny shrugs at his best friend's question.

"Just haven't found a good match yet, I suppose. What about you? You were almost against having an omega and now you've taken one in in far less than twenty-four hours." Johnny raises an eyebrow at Simon in curiosity just before smiling and waving at the shop employee that greeted them at the door.

"I guess..." Simon trails off, thinking. "I guess my instincts finally decided it was time to look. As for 13, specifically? I don't know. Maybe it's because there's something clearly wrong with Salvation and I can't stand for that treatment of omegas?"

"Maybe because deep down you know she's a good match, for some reason or another?" Johnny offers and leads Simon to a display with various blankets.

"Maybe..."

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname

[drysdalesworld]

PHASE TWO — always trust the match maker (jamie’s version)

part one

pairing: jamie drysdale x reader

genre: fluff (lots of it tbh)

word count: 4.8k+

warning(s): trev getting too smug about being cupid, georgie being (*forcefully*) dragged into trevor’s ideas, reader cannot skate in this part so if you can please just pretend 🙏, meddling trev, confessions of love (FINALLY JESUS), mentions of parties + alcohol, & a teeny tiny makeout sesh (BOOMSHAKALAKA)

note: decided to replace the gifs with pictures bc they seem more aesthetically pleasing to my eyes & are a little summary as to what will/may be in the fic <3 brittany is an oc that i made up for the plot who is mason mctavish’s girlfriend. also, thinking of doing a bonus chapter/part 3 inspired by “meet the parents” but idk 🤷‍♀️ let me know if you’d like that! (or i could do a poll for it) sorry that the ending is a little rushed, i was just so excited to get it out <3

“You know she can’t skate, right?”.

If looks could kill, Trevor Zegras would be six feet under at the moment.

Georgie didn’t understand the man’s fascination with getting her roommate and his teammate together. She could see the attraction they shared but would rather not meddle with it. Trevor and his want of being involved in everything is really shining through in this current moment.

“That’s perfect! Jamie’ll be right there to swoop in and save her from falling. See? My plan is perfect, Gigi!” Trevor exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.

His current plan for ‘phase two’ of his plan to get you and Jamie together included the family skating event that the Anaheim Ducks were hosting later in the week and since neither Jamie nor Trevor had family in California, it was a perfect idea to recruit you and your roommate as their plus ones for the night. He’d pair himself up with Georgie while Jamie was paired with you. It was perfect in his eyes. Nothing could go wrong and that night would be the night where everything fell into place and the both of you would finally get together after bearing witness to the mutual pining and obliviousness.

“Y’know this isn’t a rom-com movie, right?” Georgie scoffed out, eyes rolling and head shaking as she did so.

“I’m well aware thank you,” Trevor sassed, copying the actions of the woman in front of him. “You have nothing to worry about. She’ll be in great hands. Jamie won’t let her fall or anything”.

The woman across from him only hummed and crossed her arms over her chest, not fully believing in the blue eyed man. Whatever he’s planning, she thought, better be good. Poor girl deserves a break.

———

“You know I can’t skate, right?”.

The question seemed to hit Trevor in the face, eye nearly twitching in agitation.

“Yes. I’ve been made aware of that”.

“So why do you want me to go to your family skate so bad?”.

The blue eyed man nearly wanted to rip the ends of his hair out in frustration. Why couldn’t you just say yes without any questions? It was a simple question that required a simple answer.

“You can practice your skating skills! Everyone should at least learn how to skate one time in their life. Plus, neither Jamie or I have family in California and it’d be nice for you and Georgie to tag along,” he replied, internally on his hands and knees begging as he asked you.

“I’ll fall,” you retorted, arms crossed against your chest.

“Jamie or I will be there to catch you. Hell, if you want Mason to do it, I’ll make sure he will. Just…please come”.

Trevor’s words only caused you to sigh out, nerves already bunching in your stomach at the thought of stepping on the ice. It’s not that you haven’t skated before. It’s just that it’s been years since you have and even then, it was only your third time ever skating. You didn’t want to make yourself look like a fool and fall straight on your face.

“Promise?” You asked.

“Promise,” Trevor nodded.

“Don’t make me regret trusting you, Zegras”.

“I’d never. Scouts honor!”.

You had a feeling that you were going to regret agreeing to skating with Trevor. And you’d be proven right exactly four days after this interaction.

———

“If I slip and die, I’m going to haunt your ass!” You shrieked, hands out in front of you as you wobbled on the sleek ice, trying to balance yourself.

The force of laughter that left Jamie’s lips nearly knocked the both of you over, skates slipping back and forth on the ice as you tried to balance yourself once more.

You don’t know how you were in your right mind when you agreed to Trevor’s family skate idea. You immediately regretted it the minute you stepped onto the ice and nearly face planted. He had managed to catch you last minute, hauling you up as he laughed at your state, declaring you ‘Bambi on ice’.

You had been handed off to Jamie when Trevor decided to help Georgie, even though she had a lengthy history of skating and could manage on her own. He practically dragged you over to the Canadian before lightly shoving you into his frame, clinging onto Jamie’s outstretched arms as you cursed the Zegras boy out.

“You’re doing great so far! Just focus on what’s in front of you,” Jamie replied, the sweetest smile on his face as he continued to grasp your hands in his own. You were surprised he could still feel his hands from how tight you were gripping them. “It’s always hard the first couple of minutes on the ice. But it gets better as time goes on”.

“Says the professional skater”.

He grinned at your statement, eyes never straying from yours as he did so. You did have a point. Jamie had has ample time to refine his skating skills whereas you barely even touched the ice growing up.

“Okay, you got me there. But trust me. The more time you spend on the ice today, the easier it will be next time,” he added, eyes quickly darting behind him to make sure no one was behind him as he continued to skate backwards.

“Next time? Oh no! No. There will not be a next time! This is the only time I will be stepping on the ice,” you retorted, shaking your head.

Jamie only shook his head in response, grin still plastered on his face as the both of you continued to glide across the ice.

“It won’t be if Trevor has anything to do with it. Now, you’re doing great! Just keep bending your legs,” he replied, hands tightening their grip on yours ever so slightly.

A scoff was the only response to escape your lips as you continued to focus on skating properly, desperate to not fall on your face.

———

“So, how was it?”.

Hours had passed and you were all skated out, Jamie practically carrying you off the ice as you complained about how much your feet hurt.

A glare was shot in Trevor’s direction. His usual, stupid grin on his face as he plopped himself right next to you as Jamie untied your skates for you. (You had protested much on the fact. But he insisted on untying your laces for you. You could not refuse him after he practically pouted at you to let him.)

“I’m killing you when we get home,” you replied, massaging your foot once it was free from the tortuous confinement of the ice skate. “I can’t feel my feet, Trev!”.

“She did pretty good. Better than I expected,” Jamie commented, gently placing the other foot onto his thigh, fingers deftly untying the laces.

You let out a gasp of shock, gently nudging Jamie’s forehead as you pouted, “You have no faith in me at all!”.

The onyx haired man only chuckled at your response, shaking his head a little to fix his locks as he continued to aid you in getting out of your skates.

“From what I could see, you did well, babe” Georgie piqued, skates already off and tennis shoes on her feet. Her piercing eyes glared at Trevor for a second before returning to you, softening a bit.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to her, a gentle smile on your face.

“All right,” Jamie murmured, softly taking your foot out of the unlaced skate and placing it on the ground underneath him. “You’re all ready to go!”.

“Thanks, Jimmy!” You spoke, stretching out that foot as you wiggled your toes and tried to relieve yourself of the soreness.

Trevor shot Georgie a look, something that neither you or Jamie noticed. The man wiggled his eyebrows a bit, earning an eye roll and a smack to the shoulder from the woman in front of him.

“McTavish is having a little get together later tonight if y’all are interested in joining,” Georgie commented, very discreetly kicking Trevor’s shin, earning a yelp from him.

“Oh, right! Something about starting the new season off with a bang or whatever,” the brunet added, rubbing his shin. That’ll definitely bruise.

“We should definitely go!” He continued, trying to gauge you and Jamie’s separate reactions to the suggestion.

You looked a little unsure, sparing a quick glance to Jamie as he absorbed the information given to him. Parties were never your thing to begin with. But it always managed to be fun if a certain Ducks player attended.

Jamie shrugged, hand still loosely holding onto your ankle, “Sure!”.

You nodded in response, a smile gracing your features as you looked at Georgie in confirmation.

“Great!” She exclaimed, hands clapping together as she ushered you up, ankle now becoming cold as Jamie’s hand slipped from it. “Us girls will get ready while you two do whatever. Just don’t forget (Y/N)’s drinks this time”.

Georgie shot a hard look at Trevor when she finished her commentary, glaring at him once more before she handed you your shoes and turned your back towards the two boys.

The blue eyed man only rolled his eyes and scoffed, arms crossing over his chest.

“She’s right. Don’t forget it,” Jamie added, including his, in Trevor’s opinion, unwanted input.

“I won’t, lover boy,” Trevor scoffed, ruffling his friends hair before getting up himself, phase two already beginning to circle in his brain.

———

The ‘little get together’ Mason was throwing was, in fact, not little.

If you had to guess, you would say there were at least thirty people squished in Mason’s apartment. Every person there either seemed to be a player or a friend of a friend. You didn’t recognize most unfortunately.

People were bumping into one another as they mingled their way through the crowd to get somewhere else or greet another friend. It was overwhelming to say the least. And it didn’t help that once you stepped through the door, Georgie excused herself to go to the bathroom and left you by the overflowing coat rack Mason had stationed by the entrance to his apartment.

You were close to turning around and leaving the party when you heard someone shout your name—Trevor.

“And where do you think you’re going, missy?” He asked, two alcoholic beverages in hand. “You’ve barely been here thirty seconds and you already want to leave,” Trevor continued, tsking at you.

“This isn’t a little get together, Z,” you shouted, the music and loud talking in the small space making it hard to hear what Trevor was saying.

Trevor sheepishly shrugged. “It was!” He exclaimed, “But then Brittany wanted to bring some of her friends and then they wanted to bring some of their friends…”.

You only shook your head, snatching the familiar labeled beverage in his hand and cracking it open before he finished his sentence.

“But hey, Jamie’s here!” He excitedly shouted, a wide smile spreading on his lips. “He’s back in Mason’s room! I left him there to get you since Georgie texted me that you guys were here”.

A small blush crept onto your cheeks at the mention of the defenseman, warming up your face. Trevor had taken that reaction as a sign to grab your free hand and drag you to Mason’s room, squeezing his way through the numerous bodies littered across the room.

“It should be more peaceful in there,” Trevor commented, turning his head a little bit so you could hear him. He knew how you got with large enough crowds and had personally asked Mason if you could stay in there for a majority of the time so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed. (Not that getting you into Mason’s room with Jamie was a part of his plan, of course not!)

Once you had reached the pearl white wooden door, Trevor had quickly ushered you in before closing the door behind himself, trying extremely hard to keep a straight face so as to not blow his cover.

Jamie was seated on Mason’s bed, elbows on knees as he was scrolling through whatever app he had on his phone. His dark hair had fallen forward due to the position, causing Jamie to have to push back the strands to get a good look at whoever walked into the room.

A smile broke onto his lips once he saw that it was you. “Hey,” he spoke, turning off his phone and throwing it to the left of him, the device making contact with the soft pillows.

“(Y/N/N) here tried to run. But, I caught her in time before she could make an escape. You’re welcome,” Trevor praised himself, giving a little bow to Jamie and you.

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your beverage. “Oh, why, thank you so much, Trev!”.

Only a wide grin was Trevor’s response to your quip, teeth on full display as his blue eyes twinkled with an all too familiar look.

But before you could question what he was up to, a loud knock came from behind Mason’s bedroom door, catching the attention of all three of you in the room.

The door opened to reveal Lukáš Dostál, one of the Ducks goalies. He had a sheepish smile on his face as he called out to Trevor, telling him that Mason needed him real quick before slowly backing away from the door frame to allow space for the center player to get through.

“Alright,” Trevor spoke, clapping his hands together, or at least as much as he could with his beer in hand. “I must depart. So, I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t miss me too much now”.

A fake laugh escaped your lips as the boy exited the room, the loud slam and click of the door echoing throughout the room. Trevor shot you a small wink just before he completely disappeared behind the door.

“He’s up to something,” Jamie commented, eyes squinted at the door, gaze lingering on the general area Trevor stood just moments prior.

“I was about to say the same thing, Drysdale” you murmured, non dominant hand on hip as your dominant one still held your cool beverage.

“You’d think we’d have a sixth sense for this,” he chuckled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “With all the shit he pulls, you’d think we’d be better at recognizing when he’s up to something”.

You smiled at his comment, nodding with what he was saying as you took a sip of your drink. Trying to pinpoint what exactly Trevor was up to was always a hard feat—something that you hadn’t quite mastered yet even after all these years of knowing him.

“He’s sneaky. Too much for his own good sometimes,” you spoke, flopping onto Mason’s bed, cup already emptied and discarded somewhere amongst the room.

Jamie only hummed in response as he felt your weight dip the mattress, the force of it nearly forcing him backwards, his left hand going behind him in order to stop himself from crushing you.

From his position, Jamie could see every faint freckle on your face and every birthmark that painted your skin. You were wearing a black baby tee that had two pink magic eight balls positioned as cherries, tied by a ribbon on the very front. The necklace that held your first initial laid in the middle of your chest, moving up and down with each breath you took. The jeans you were wearing hugged your figure perfectly. Your eyelids were gently closed and from time to time, he could see your eyes move underneath the lids. Your hair splayed around your head like a halo, shining in the overhead light. To Jamie, you looked like an angel sent from above—so pretty and kind and captivating. He couldn’t believe he had met you when he did. He felt so blessed to get the privilege to be in your life, in whatever way you deemed appropriate.

“Trevor’s special. In more ways than one,” Jamie chuckled.

His comment made you laugh, your head thrown back against the sheet as your legs lifted up to your chest as they kicked instinctually from laughter.

Your reaction made Jamie smile and blush, blood rushing up his neck to his cheeks, dusting his face a light pink color.

“I’m surprised we’re still friends with him,” you wheezed out. “With all the shit he’s pulled, he should’ve been blocked a long time ago”.

Jamie chuckled and nodded in response.

His heart was beating extremely fast, something it did regularly when Jamie was in your presence. He also had a hard time breathing too, but who wouldn’t?

A comfortable silence had settled between you two. You still laid down on Mason’s bed, eyes delicately closed and breathing steady as you tried not to fall asleep on the comfortable mattress.

The loud chatter of those outside Mason’s bedroom was only an afterthought as the two of you continued to bask in the comfortable silence. The domesticity of it all made Jamie’s heart lurch and his mind race. It wasn’t an entirely domestic scene, but it was enough for him. You are always enough for him.

The man wasn’t going to lie about how he knew about Trevor’s “masterful plan”. He had figured it out quickly after he heard his roommate mumble to himself about how his plan failed after that one party at their shared apartment. Confiding in Georgie only proved Jamie’s suspicions right—the redhead practically spilling every thought and plan Trevor had come up with in an attempt to get the two of you together. Jamie had nearly died at Georgie’s confession. That was the only confirmation he needed to pull up his bootstraps and finally work up the courage to confess to you. And, of course, Jamie knew of Trevor’s idea of throwing you two in a room together in hopes of the two of you getting together.

“(Y/N)?”.

So, here goes nothing.

“Can I tell you something?”.

That question piqued your interest.

You opened your eyes and sat up, faces inches away from Jamie’s face as his eyes never left yours. Your cheeks burned pink from the proximity and you found yourself cursing at your low tolerance for alcohol. Another reason why you much preferred the colorful, fruity drinks many alcohol brand names created. You didn’t need much to feel the effects.

“Yeah. What’s up?” You asked, shifting yourself a bit so all of your weight wasn’t put onto your arms, leaning a little forward.

Jamie’s mouth suddenly went dry, the words caught in his throat as his brain tried to scramble for something—anything to say.

“Should I have not said that about Trev?” You wearily asked, worried he took what you said about his best friend to heart. “Because I didn’t mean that! He’s a cool guy, really! Can be a bit annoying, but I’d never block him. Unless he did, like, something incredibly stupid like—”.

“No.” Jamie simply stated, it coming out more as a croak than a word. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“No. It’s not about that. I honestly agree with everything you said”.

That granted Jamie a smile of yours that he so desperately loved seeing on you. He copied your smile, licking his lips before then.

“It’s just—Damn. I didn’t think it’d be this hard,” he whispered, head slightly shaking as his eyes darted from place to place, nerves tingling throughout his entire body.

“What? That what would be hard, J?” You softly ask, hand coming up to gently grip his bicep in a comforting grasp.

The skin you touched felt like it was on fire to Jamie. Every time you touched him, sparks erupted underneath his skin. It always felt nice. Like it was supposed to happen. Like you were supposed to be touching him.

“I’ve thought day and night about this nearly every day since I met you. Do you remember that? Trev was so excited to introduce you. He was practically buzzing off the walls with excitement,” Jamie begins, his own hand gravitating towards yours that still grasped his bicep, gently wrapping around your wrist.

You giggled at the memory. Trevor had been excited to introduce the two of you. He was dead set on Jamie being the one to rid you of your relationship disappointments. The man had commented many times how his friend and roommate Jamie could be your one. You very much doubted that statement. You had given up at that point. But the second you locked eyes with Jamie Drysdale, all bets went out the window. He was so sweet and so gentle in speaking with you and shaking your hand. You were sure if angels walked the Earth, Jamie was one of them. That night, after leaving the café Trevor brought you to, you had realized that the center hockey player was right about Jamie being the change for you. But you still had doubted that something as kind, as beautiful as Jamie would fall for someone like you.

“Trevor wouldn’t stop talking my ear off about all your little quirks,” you commented. “He told me about your sleep talking and how you always watch the Mighty Ducks series whenever you don’t feel well”.

“Of course he did,” Jamie snorted. “What didn’t he tell you.”

You only smiled in response as you waited for Jamie to continue whatever he was saying beforehand. The butterflies in your stomach swarming and hurriedly batting their wings. You weren’t sure what Jamie was trying to say. You just hoped that he wasn’t going to abruptly end the friendship you two had.

“Trevor had mentioned some things here and there about you. Honestly, I wasn’t sure who I was going to meet that day from how little he mentioned you. He refused to tell me anything and insisted that I actually talk to you to find out more about you. Which, I guess, I should thank him for because then I probably wouldn’t have connected with you the way I did.”.

“It’s forever sketched into my brain—that day. I remember how cold it was that morning and how you walked in with only jeans and a jacket on while I had too many layers on to count. I think my lungs stopped working the minute you walked through the café doors and we locked eyes. I nearly spilled my drink.”.

You both chuckled at that. You had a feeling of where this conversation was going to go and your brain nearly started to overheat from how hard you were thinking and trying not to just blurt out how you felt to him. You never got those long confessions from those you were interested in. And since you were now getting that, you didn’t want to interrupt and ruin the moment. So, you stayed quiet and silently urged Jamie to continue.

“I know it’s cliché to say, but I’m pretty sure I loved you the moment I saw you. Everything about you intrigued me. Everything about you was so enchanting and I couldn’t stop myself from being greedy and wanting to get to know you better. I don’t even think Trevor spoke to us once during the entire three hours we were there. It was hard having to leave and part ways. I wanted to spend more time with you.”.

“I called my Mom later that night and told her everything. She laughed at me and told me that something similar happened to her and my Dad. That I should keep you as close as I could. I’m pretty sure even she could tell that I was already taken aback by you. It was that night that I knew no one else could compare. I mean, it took you, what, five seconds to break me out of my shell and have me talking the entire morning. You were special for some reason and you’re something that I cannot imagine letting go.”.

“So, I guess what I am trying to say is, I think—No. I know that I’m in love with you. And I have been since Trevor uttered your name,” he finished.

Unshed tears gathered in your waterline, threatening to spill over as you took in what the man you had held so close to your heart for so long just confessed.

Jamie too had small tears gather at the corner of his eyes. His heart pounded against his chest as he tried to slow his breathing down. He poured his heart and soul out to you and he only hoped that you matched his feelings back.

“Oh, Jamie,” you whispered, voice full of emotion. “I too have loved you since the moment we met. I think I had a harder time coming to terms with it. I had some rocky relationships in the past that made me feel inadequate for love. For the longest time I thought I was only made for half assed love and the kind of love that made me feel empty when it was over. But, meeting you has changed everything. Meeting you has rewired my brain in so many ways that I can’t begin to tell you the impact you’ve had on me. Just you alone have made me believe all over again. You make love seem not as scary as I thought”.

By the time you reached the end of your sentence, Jamie had tears running down his pale cheeks. He knew of your less than satisfactory relationships and hoped that one day, he could change your mind. He didn’t think he’d actually achieve it as just your friend. He only hoped that he’d be able to do more as your partner.

Silence fell over the two of you again as you both sat there in a warm touchless embrace. Jamie’s hand still gripping yours. Eventually, he moved your hand from his bicep up to his lips, delicately kissing it before placing it on his cheek as he leaned into the soft flesh of your palm.

“I feel like that was really cheesy, no?” He whispered, a giggle falling from his lips.

You could only giggle and nod in response, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

Your eyes met, both wet from the tears shedded. An unspoken question (Can I kiss you?) was asked between the two of you, a simple shake of your heads was the only confirmation you needed before leaning in and pressing your lips together.

Jamie’s lips were so, so soft that it made you want to cry all over again. His cologne was more pungent now that you were lip locked. The smell made you feel dizzy, your closed eyes not helping the slight vertigo sensation you felt. His unoccupied hand went to your cheek to pull you even closer, the need to become one ever so present in the air.

Your other hand went up to his soft locks, desperately tugging at the ends, making Jamie shudder at the feeling. You tried to get closer to the man, but the position the two of you were in was not ideal.

But, before you could pull away and climb into Jamie’s lap, the door to Mason’s bedroom slammed open, scaring the two of you away from each other.

“Holy shit! Yes!” A voice shouted, the owner jumping up and down as they squealed and shrieked in excitement.

“Trevor, what the fuck?!” You screamed, now lying on the bed sideways from the scare you received.

“I did it! I finally did it! You guys kissed! I am the ultimate matchmaker, bitches!” He continued, ignoring the glares he was getting from the two of you.

As Trevor began to dance in celebration in front of Jamie and you, you peeked a look at the man you just kissed only to see him smirking as he gazed at you.

But, the only thing you could do was shake your head and urge yourself forward, locking Jamie into another kiss.

“Ew! Hey, I’m right here! Just because you’re together now does not mean I consent to seeing you two eat each other’s faces,” Trevor exclaimed, a small smile on his face as he teasingly tsked at the two of you.

The only response to his comment was your middle finger as he slipped through the door again, careful to lock the door as to leave the two of you some peace and privacy.

———

( “So, did they do it?” Mason asked, feet propped up against the small table placed in front of his couch.

The Ducks player had originally been against Trevor’s “plan” but had ultimately agreed when he got sick and tired of Jamie moping around like a lost puppy after someone mentioned your name.

The smirk on Trevor’s face said it all.

���Good, hopefully he’ll stop looking like a lovesick fool every time someone mentions her,” he added, sipping his beer. “But you owe me big time, Zegras! I just don’t let anyone use my bedroom for their matchmaking plans”.

Trevor only saluted his teammate, uttering a sir yes sir! before practically skipping his way to Georgie to spill the beans.

Mason shook his head as he watched Trevor go, thinking about how much of a clean day tomorrow will be, headache already forming at the thought. )

[alexa-yukiyu]

Can I ask for a really rebellious and curious child mandarin fish mermaid reader with WB pirates or the redhair pirates? I wonder what kind of shenanigans and chaos would they be in with such child (who may or may not get kidnapped from time to time cuz y'know, mer things ). Maybe a little bit of hurt and comfort if you Don't mind

Fish for Sale (Thatch x reader)

A/N yall almost din’t het no update today either cause after I had everything ready my behind left the app for a min a din’t save the draft and now I have to do it all again 🤜🏼. Anyhow bet you thought you would’t get nothing today did ya? Also did ya peep my rebranding of the blog?

Reader here is Replaced by Dokucha which dtands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

"Well, I'm on my kidnapped arc again," Dokucha sighed as she once again found herself on the shoulders of what she guessed to be another slave trader, foolishly thinking to be their lucky day at having found a mermaid.

"Hey, I really advise against this. I doubt you are going to leave with just a slap on the wrist if they find out you did this.

"Shut up, you damn brat, if you know what's good for you!" he growled.

Don't say I didn't warn you," she grumbled with a roll of their eyes.

"Come on, Brother Marco! I didn't get hurt," Dokcuha screamed, trying to be heard by the sound of the wind as she dangled from her brother's talons.

"That's not the point here, Dokucha." He huffed as he made his way closer to the mother ship, leaving behind a scalding inferno as Ace got rid of the slaver's HQ.

"And what is?" she asked, letting out a slight 'oomph' as Marco dropped her on the ship's deck and gracefully landed beside her.

"The point is you can't be that reckless-yoi," he admonished with a shake of his head.

"I couldn't help it! They just had the prettiest pearls I had seen. I just wanted a closer look, that is all. Turns out they were fake anyways, should have known," she huffed

"This is what I mean-yoi. You can't just barge in without thinking of the consequences," he called, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're exaggerating!" she sneered, crossing her arms and looking away from him in a petulant manner.

"Am I? Dokucha, this is the third time this week; one of these days, we won't make it in time," he shot back, his tone slowly rising.

"Don't look away from me when I'm talking, Dokucha." he admonished

"Or what?"

"Alright, Alright, why don't ya take a breather?" Thatch cut in, putting his hands on Marco's shoulders as he guided him away.

Dokucha rolled her eyes as she watched the two men share hushed conversations, with Marco's coming out like hisses as he let his annoyance bubble to the top as he eventually left the two be, stomping his way to the clinic.

"I really don't see what his issue is," she grumbled as Thatch approached her, giving her a small slap to the back of her head and ignoring the whine she gave him as she rubbed the spot.

"AH! AH! Thatch that really hurts!" she cried as he pulled her by the ear inside the boat.

"Stop that carryin on!" he shot back, effectively shushing the girl as they made their way into her quarters.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing at her bed.

"But-

"Sit!" he repeated, deciding to ignore the colorful swears she let out under her breathe as she obliged craddling her now bright red ear.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he stated

"First of all, you are going to apologize to Marco, and then you are going to change this whole act or so. Help me!"

"What?! Why would I apologize to him?! He was diggin' into me for no reason!"

"Dokucha, I have three speeds right now, on, off, and don't push your luck. Marco had to go into the island to save your pretty behin' from getting taken again and you just acted as if nothin was wrong!"

"No one asked him to do it!" she seethed, gripping the bedsheets underneath her until her knuckles turned white.

"And yet he did!" he growled, making the young mermaid wince, at which he took notice and let out a small sigh.

"Lord help me over the fence," he muttered, kneeling in front of the girl

"Dokucha, he is just tryin' to help ya; just like all of us, he is worried about what can become of you if they managed to get ya into the slave industry." He called, putting his hand on her cheek and watching as she leaned into it

"Ya'r a very special girl Dragonet, and people often wanna take advanatage of tha, all they will see is your scales and rare colors. We don't wanna lose ya."

"I know"

"Right, so you understand he's not trying to harass ya?"

"Yeah, I just got a lil angry. I wanted to explore, and I'm always stopped because of my scales," She called, gesturing to her psychedelic-colored fins

"That's alright. I can go with ya if ya still wanna explore?"

"Will you?!" she called, shooting up, eyes sparkling

"After ya apologize ta Marco."

"Ugh!"

Also I tried my hand and making headers n dividers and now I have my own! I made three sets, these are for the child!reader so they are obviously more childish and breezy (?)

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[yourmamakira]

"Anger management"

c.shuantaro

"Chishiya is very chill, very relaxed, and very quiet, but his girlfriend...not so much. She has horrible anger issues and can't help it that she wants to fight everyone. Even if she's not strong enough. And it just so happens that the calmest person in the world is the only person who can calm her down." She/her/herself/"reader"

Notes: this takes place on the beach, fluff, angst if you squint, slight oc chishiya, guns, violence, harassment, blood,

They had spent nearly a month in the other world, and a week on the beach. In other words, they had been there for too dam long.

Despite being extremely smart and agile, reader at times were a steaming hot teapot constantly on the edge of boiling over, and unlucky for those around her, a lot of things set her off.

She was always stuck with two people, two people whose main goal was to keep her on a tight leash like a reactive dog at a dog park. And truth be told she was very dangerous to those around her. Not only was the girl insanely aggressive, but she was also smart, and quick. Only a few people know of what she was before she came into the other world. But those who don't know could only assume she was some kind of trickster god.

She and Kuina had just got back from a spades game —her specialty— and just nearly finished with less than a handful of bruises, the most noticeable one was on her right leg. A massive Gash from a lion's claws poorly covered in a wrap, it dripped a small trail behind her as she winced with each step.

A gash which caused her to walk with a weakening limp. Now what may not seem like a big deal to others, to a few, was just that indeed. Because it meant the wild wolf was hindered, her normal energy lacked visible volume. And her other stronger willed and long tempered Bodyguard was nowhere to be seen.

This would likely be the only opportunity to have the upper hand her enemies would love to have. And they took it. 

The pair of tired girls made their way through the crowd by the pool. One would think the party would ease up but it did just the opposite as the night continued. The beach was never really quiet. People of all ages come together to celebrate not losing their lives and coming one step closer to leaving this world.

Well, she thought it was all a load of bullshit. These people thought Hatter was doing this for them, when in reality only the higher-ups would make it out. Which is exactly why Her, Chishiya, and Kuina would climb the status quo to come one step closer to leaving this world faster than anyone else.

Of course, she had many thoughts of the card idea not working, but it was the only shot they had and she would take that shot in the dark to get what she wanted.

The two of you coordinated your way through the sweaty crowd, you yelling at everybody who dared to bump into you accidentally. 

Your leg pain didn't ease up and it made you walk a little funny with each step you took. You hadn't seen your lover anywhere, but knowing him he was probably out causing chaos, and that thought of that made you smirk.

Just when you thought that your wounds would be the only pain in the ass, one of the least desirable people in the this world decided to step infront of your path intentionally blocking your way.

You gritted your teeth at his mischievous smile and glared dealthy at the dark haired man.

"Get the fuck out of my way Niragi."

He chuckled as he stepped closer, you made no attempt to move. This trix didn't scare you, but Kuina however stepped closer behind you in fear, knowing that if anything was to happen, you would protect her with your life.

"Awl, still as hostile as ever little wolf? How about I show you a good time in the bed to ease up all that pent up anger"

He licked his lips suductivly, his tounge reached out to nearly lick the top of your nose. You emitted a sound from your chest that almost imitated a growl. Clear anger rising to your face.

"I will fucking kill you if you don't back the fuck up"

Niragi's smile dropped and he clutched his gun harder. You didn't give a dam about that fire arm, everyone knew getting shot was the least of your worries. And so did Niragi.

He chuckled darkly, "what did you just say to me, bitch?"

This set you off, you got closer to him and he flinched. You first spoke in a whisper before yelling and your voice rang though the entire beach.

"I said BACK THE FUCK UP BEFORE I KILL YOU!" Your voice boomed, the voices around you got quiet but you didn't care. Everyone watched intently as the two wild bulls went head to head once again, wanting to see what would happen this time like some cheap reality television.

Just as you were about to get physical, Two more voices entered the conversation,

The beach members split clear a path as Hatter and his crew came waltzing in, and just at the same time, Chishiya appeared out of thin air and stood directly beside you. But your eyes were locked on your rivals. –If you could even call him that.–

If looks could kill, Niragi would suffer a great horrendous death.

Hatter smiled as he took off his glasses, he looked between The two of us before laughing that obnoxious laugh.

"You two fighting again? What's the problem this time? Huh?" He spoke humorously, you and Niragi hated eachothers guts, you Two couldn't be in the same room without trying to rip eachothers heads off. Like two infant babies who didn't get along at the play ground.

Chishiya Smiled Dryly as he looked between the two of you as well. "Yes, what is the problem?"

Niragi took his gaze away from you to look at your boyfriend in disgust. "You better get your slut in check Chishiya, she's wild again."

This made you jump at him and he flinched back, both Kuina and Chishiya took your arms in hold and held you back as you screamed.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SLUT YOU BITCH—DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?" You continued to yell at Niragi without restraint, you spewed insults and threats, all of which you meant, even hatter got a little scared at your words.

Just a you were about to continue, both hatter and Chishya stepped in between the both of you.

Hatter looked at Niargi with a wide smirk, "now Niragi, you know not to mess with Yasei no ōkami, no offense but she would smoke you! How about you two just go to your rooms and cool off. Huh?"

Yasei no ōkami (野生の狼): "Wild Wolf"

Chishiya grabbed your arm and pulled your ear to his mouth, he whispered something and your face dropped while instantly becoming hot. You huffed and crossed your arms immediately calming down.

Whispers filled the silence around the group of you, everyone wondering what he had said, and how he had managed to calm you down every time without fail.

Hatter pushed Niragi the opposite direction of you and he gave you a face as him and his goons walked off. Hatter turned back to you, Chishiya and Kuina before speaking,

"And you Three musketeers, should go on too. Rest on for a long day tomorrow, well the two of you at least." He looks down at your injured leg then back at your face

"Looks like your hurt, let Ann take a look at that before going back to your room, okay? Don't need you dying on us" he laughed obnoxiously at his last statement.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed while looking away. You wanted to so badly talk your shit. But you didn't want to considering what Chishiya had said to you a few minutes ago.

Kuina exchanged a few words with hatter before she grabbed your arm and began to pull you away from the Militants before your fuse blew again.

She was about to speak before Tata came up to your group and interrupted her.

He nodded at the three of you before speaking, "Y/N, Chishiya, Kuina, I need one of your help with somthing I'm working on. I would ask someone else but..."

He trailed off and Kuina Picked up for him, "but everyone's either Drunk, High off thier mind or Trying to repopulate the new world. I'll help you Tata."

Tata smiled and the two of them went off together, you rolled your eyes and began linmping away from where you were told to go.

Chishiya stood there with a raised eyebrow,

"Where are you going?"

You spun around to face him, "away. I don't need help. It'll heal on its own."

Chishiya walked up to you and started to pull you in the direction of Ann before you ripped your arm away from him.

"I'm not going to Ann."

You spoke harshly. Only a few people knew of your fear of the doctors, —which was ironic considering what your lover did for a living— but you managed fine avoiding it before.

But little did you know how bad you needed one, and your Boyfriend wouldn't let you succumb to your infections like you would allow yourself to. So he grabbed your arm and began pulled you to Ann.

You fought him back, very adamant on your fear. But he still prosisted, and he was just a bit stronger than you.

"I said— No!—"

He gripped your arm tighter before looking back you with this glint in his eye that even scared you. No matter how hard you tried to not be, you trusted your boyfriend with you life. And if he's pressuring you to go. Then you need to go.

You huffed and let him pull you to Ann's Make shift med room. But his grip on your arm didn't loosen. Instead, he grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly knowing dam well if given the chance you would bolt. Then he wouldn't be able to catch you.

You bit your lip harder and harder with every inch you got closer to Ann's. Even if it wasn't a real hospital it still has hospital things in it. It still had a hospital vibe.

You gripped your boyfriends hand tighter and he looked back you with his same expression. To others it was just blunt. But to you, you always had a way of telling it meant you were safe with him.

As you walked into the med room the smell of alcohol and blood flew into your nostrils. Your eyes widened as you became stiff at the door way.

Horrible memories began flooding back to you at a rapid pace. You felt as if your heart were stopping and your lungs became full with a familiar feeling of water.

You were reliving your childhood all over again. And you wanted to throw up and die on the spot.

The walls were closing in and your vison was blurry. Everything was spinning as you quickly became dizzy—

"Y/N."

A voice snapped you out of your pounding head. You looked up with tears in your eye and were met with the gaze of Chishiya.

You hauled up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist and let your tears fall on to his shoulder.

If anyone seen the mighty Wolf in this state they wouldn't know what to do.

Good thing it was just the love of your life.

You lifted your head up and wiped your tears. No words had to be exchanged.

You looked down at your feet and sniffed as you looked back over to the table full of supplies, you took one more look at your boyfriend before you deeply sighed and walked into the room with clenched fists.

You couldn't register what Ann was saying but it was something along the lines of "leg" "limp" "bad" "infection".

You couldn't bother to listen any further as you squeezed your boyfriend's hand so tight you thought his fingers would pop off.

The visit was over faster than you thought, but you had been distracted the whole time so it could have been hours.

You walked out of the room with a wrapped up leg and tear stained cheeks, you sighed as you looked down at your leg.

You were glad you had no more games for a while now, so at least you leg had time to heal.

As you were once again lost in thought the sound of Chishiya's voice Made you look up.

"So, now that we're done, I think it's time for my promise to come true, don't you think?"

Your face heated up as you looked down to your leg then back up to the platinum blonde man,

"But my leg—" he cut you off as he walks closer, "we, can work around it."

You gulped as you took his hand and the two of you made your way to your shared room.

If we can get anything from this night, just know, you'll be knocked out in a few hours. Forgetting all about the hospital and your hurt leg..

Well here it is, finally. Way way longer than intended, and took way longer then it should have, nobody asked for this to began with. But if you see this and like it, please support me. This took like 4 months to finish for no reason, love you all. And sorry it's mostly reader again, I just love writing from their prospective.

More Chishiya coming soon tho, love you all!

[babystrcandy]

the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )  

FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

OK . . .

You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.

The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.

Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . . 

But . . . 

There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to. 

It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.

So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.

It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless). 

Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him. 

That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.

So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.

“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”

Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.

Yeah . . . 

It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.

That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)

Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic. 

The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS. 

Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)

And then it would be your turn. 

Actually . . . 

You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.

“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.

Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.

Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”

You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket. 

All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.

But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .

(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)

Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.

And that was what always shocked you.

“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.

Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?”

But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”

Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.

“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s chapstick.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”

Jungkook only grinned.

And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.

“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm. 

“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”

“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”

Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”

It was. It actually really was. 

“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest. 

But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”

Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”

“So I’ve impressed you?”

“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug. 

Jungkook snorted. “Well.”

Oh god. No, he didn’t.

Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”

His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought.  “Well . . . “

“Kook.”

Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.

“Really?” you deadpanned.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”

“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”

And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”

Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—

But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.

Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.

It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar. 

“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”

You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.

“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”

Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”

His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”

A beat of silence.

Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“

“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”

Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”

You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”

“That’s because I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”

Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.

And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.

(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . . 

Supposedly.)

It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face. 

“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).

“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”

His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Another shrug was your only response.

Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”

Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice. 

And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.

“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.

You raised your head ever so slightly.

To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.

And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

You felt yourself grin. “Good.”

The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts. 

(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . . 

What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.

Whatever.)

And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief. 

Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.

It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.

“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.

He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”

Daisy baby. That was a new one.

Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed. 

It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again. 

It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar. 

Did you like it? 

You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.

Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.

But what exactly was this?

. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .

Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.

And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“ 

But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.

The two of you paused.

A beat of silence.

Another knock came.

Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you. 

Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)

No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.

Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.

“What—“ 

But he was already gone. 

His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—

Oh. You blinked in shock.

In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?

Huh?

Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look. 

Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)

That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.

Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“

“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”

Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”

Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”

A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “

As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”

And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be? 

With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.

You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.

If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.

If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.

“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “

You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .

Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.

Then . . . 

. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.

In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)

And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.

Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!

Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?

But . . . you were . . .

As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.

And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.

“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:

“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.

Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.

“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight. 

(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))

And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”

Lie.

He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .

But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—

. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.

Until:

“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”

Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone. 

“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.

Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him. 

He only sent you a knowing grin.

And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.

“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”

You nearly smacked a hand to your face.

“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”

And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.

Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”

“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”

Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”

“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care. 

That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.

And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then. 

It seemed he always was . . . 

That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.

But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.

It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki. 

Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care. 

It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent? 

Were you . . . happy?

And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?

In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . . 

A beat of silence. 

In it more relief. 

Beat.

Beat.

Beat . . .

But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.

You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.

And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.

Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality. 

Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him. 

Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.

That was weird.

You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?

And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.

Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.

Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.

And you were a step behind him.

“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”

But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.

You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to. 

Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.

But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.

So what? You’d find him. You had to.

Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you. 

“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.

But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.

Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.

So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!

Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.

“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words. 

Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“ 

The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat. 

And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”

A beat of silence.

You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before. 

But you really didn’t care.

Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“

But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.

Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”

“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”

Jimin blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “

“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . .  in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”

Oh . . .

Don’t say it.

Don’t say—

Don’t—

But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”

Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”

You just had to say it . . . 

“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”

With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.

But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.

“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.

Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism. 

A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”

Instantly, your heart dropped. 

He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.

You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing. 

But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.

“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”

And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other. 

To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.

It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . . 

The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”

His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?

“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “

“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.

It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”

“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”

You raised your brows. “Why not?”

“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”

And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.

“Is it?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”

But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.

The world stopped.

A beat of silence. 

Two beats.

Another.

. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat. 

And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.” 

He loved you? He . . .

“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”

Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!

“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”

But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart? 

You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.

If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.

That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”

Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin. 

Had it reached your heart?

“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason. 

Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become. 

That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything. 

And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done. 

Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too. 

Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.

And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”

Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.

Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”

Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves. 

How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?

“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”

I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it. 

But no one was to blame.

No one.

Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.

“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”

Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you? 

And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?

“Min?” 

The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face. 

“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.

That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . . 

Wait . . . 

Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near. 

Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean? 

No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No. 

Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—

Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . . 

And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.

The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”

A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.

It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you. 

This could be it.

A new leaf.

For him.

For Jungkook.

For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”

“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”

And you nodded back with a smile.

The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.

Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would. 

Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.

Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.

You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.

Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.

How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.

But you had to try. For him . . .

And then you remembered:

Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward.

But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?

Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just— 

“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.

In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”

I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.

It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.

The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.

“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”

Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”

And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.

It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going. 

“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.

But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.

Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.

“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”

Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”

And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . . 

His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory. 

Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”

“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.

“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”

In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.

Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?

The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now. 

Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.

Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.

A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed. 

Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”

“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.

Another beat of silence.

And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.

It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.

As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.

You supposed it would always end this way.

I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—

And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.

and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—

Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . . 

But . . . 

In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.

But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?

How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?

That odor.

That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.

. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.

But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.

It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.

But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.

Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.

And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.

You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing. 

And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.

As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.

Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.

How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?

You were sure you never would.

And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?

Who were you without . . . badminton?

That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?

Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried. 

And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . . 

Those three years . . .

All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.

Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.

Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.

In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more. 

The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?

There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.

And you took it every time.

The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?

Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?

You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Anyway.

Focus on the present.

Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.

The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . . 

And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—

You checked your phone.

—an hour and a half ago.

It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)

The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too. 

But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.

Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring. 

It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.

And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.

You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .

“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.

Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.

You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.

“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.

His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.

And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh. 

“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”

With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”

You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear. 

And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?

Perhaps . . . 

It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life. 

But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.

Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."

And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help. 

Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?

God, you wished you knew the answers. 

“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.

“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”

And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.

So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.

A beat of silence followed your confession.

The world exhaled.

You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."

Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.

Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”

His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."

And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.

"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.

His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.

But you had.

Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Give it to me, and breathe.

That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.

Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”

You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”

That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”

And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)

So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.

Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.

It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books? 

Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook’s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.

It was sweet. Innocent. 

It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?

And that was when you realized something . . .

“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.

How could he ever think he deserved this?

Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”

Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”

And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.

I’m a better person because of you.

How could I ever be unhappy with that?

And you knew you meant every word.

The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now. 

Not here. 

Not with him.

When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now. 

Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.

You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . . 

. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.

Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt. 

Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page. 

But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.

There’s something soft in me—

You remembered reading long ago.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.

And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.

So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.

Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now. 

Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then? 

Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway? 

. . . 

Whatever. 

It didn’t mean much, right? 

There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . . 

With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))

“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air. 

Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”

“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.

You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”

And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.

Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.

So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.

But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.

“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.

(There’s something soft in me—

But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.)

So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “

And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).

While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.

Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.

There’s something soft in me—

we killed it and it’s rotting.

It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.

Off the highway like another deer.

You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.

Off the highway like another girl.

What was . . . this?

It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—

You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.

But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.

I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.

You needed air. You needed to run.

Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.

But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.

Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”

All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).

But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”

“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?” 

You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.

But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.

So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”

That was it.

I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . . 

You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward. 

. . . And then you were gone.

Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.

And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived. 

A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.

But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.

This wasn’t a fire. Far from it. 

It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.

And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.

Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?

It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.

Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.

And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true. 

Whatever . . .  it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.

That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?

Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . . 

“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)

Still . . . 

. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.

So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge. 

Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.

(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)

His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.

Silence for only a beat more.

And then, he spoke.

“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.

And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?). 

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.

Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”

And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”

Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”

Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.

It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been. 

But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.

Fuck.

It really was that, wasn’t it?

You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it. 

But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.

So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .

Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “

Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”

“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”

A few beats of silence.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “

Oh.

Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.

But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?

“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”

Home.

He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future. 

It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.

Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.

“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”

Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.

Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)

And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”

There.

Right there.

There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.

What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?

It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought. 

And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?

“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”

A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”

Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.

You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .

Until . . . 

. . . until him.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.

Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.

“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”

Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”

Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.

He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”

You swallowed hard.

You’re the one who haunts me.

Oh . . . 

And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?

You swallowed hard once again.

“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”

“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . . 

“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles.  “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”

I want you to help me live.

It echoed in your ears.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to—

Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?

But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.

“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”

Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?

Whatever.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words. 

OK, he nodded. 

OK, he smiled. 

OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.

OK.

There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles. 

The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.

And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault. 

It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant. 

But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.

(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)

But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.

You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!

And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.

Then it would be your screams which filled the room.

Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself. 

That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash. 

. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.

With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.

Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . . 

You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.

And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.

But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams. 

You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).

Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).

Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).

“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)

“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?

God . . . what had you turned into?

“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).

Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”

Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.

Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”

You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.

But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.

Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him. 

Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”

Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”

Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . . 

But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.

And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”

“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.

Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”

Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”

He only laughed.

A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . . 

“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.

This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”

Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)

He wasn’t kidding.

But . . . 

“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”

His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”

Oh no.

No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you. 

He wanted you to like him back . . .

So then you had—oh, no!

“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”

Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh, shit . . . “

And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder

“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”

“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.

His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.

“Obviously.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”

In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”

“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.

Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.”

But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”

“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.

“Mmm.”

Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )

“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.

And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.

That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.

That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).

A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds. 

That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.

Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.

He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.

“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.

“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”

Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.

“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.

And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.

He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.

“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)

“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.

It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other. 

Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.

It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”

And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.

It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.

But there he was. He was always right there . . . 

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in. 

It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

And it seemed neither could he . . . 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"

You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “

His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”

How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?

And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once. 

It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features. 

(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)

Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?

Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”

And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.

Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.

Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”

And you knew that was it.

With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”

“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”

Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.

The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch. 

You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.

He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.

Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.

And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . . 

“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes. 

Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes. 

And then . . . then it hit you.

“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”

I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.

And that scared the shit out of you.

taglist:

@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin​ , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom

[archivedblog16]

LONGGG ask ahead.

I feel like Viv just doesn’t understand sex outside of funny haha bdsm ‘daddy’ jokes.

Especially the Helluva short where Blitzo says he’s a top and therefore is bad at oral. What?????? That’s not how it works???? I wish I had more examples but I think the general vibe of sex only being used for power dynamics is present in both HH and HB. Blitzo’s sa threat to moxie (and millie) in an early episode, the way Stolas cheating with a lower class imp is first used to show that he’s a bad guy and that blitzo is desperate BUT this is later almost retconned to make it into a cutesy toxic yaoi love story and cheating is suddenly okay. Fizz and Ozzie’s relationship I just can’t take seriously when it’s reduced Fizz into a sub gay twink stereotype (‘pwease big daddy?’ Ughhh stfu). Side tangent but I was so happy to see representation of a disabled person with agency and success, until he started being babied by the narrative and acts totally different especially in the Mammon episode. They make Mammon look bad for sexualising Fizz and bodyshaming, which is a good message about toxic bosses, until you remember that Blitzo has done that and much worse to his employees.

This is just as bad in HH, the Angel and Val thing is just disturbing. Like I can forgive slightly bad writing but hiring a known proshipper with an SA kink to storyboard the scenes of a SA VICTIM BEING ABUSED is fucking insane. Viv doesn’t care about representation, kink isn’t just about being edgy and dangerous during sex and it feels like she just doesn’t understand the history behind it. Making the sin of lust himself say he cares about consent just to make your character look good (because she suddenly decided she wanted him to be a dom sugar daddy instead of an actual bad guy), but then you also approve of showing SA in your shows as a joke, especially when it’s used against characters that are seen as more pathetic (moxxie and sir pentious). Vivz gets off to negative power dynamics and seems to fetishise abuse of power. Pretty obvious considering the disturbing SA scene playlist she had on her old YouTube channel.

Also Stolas is like a textbook r*pist imo, the self pitying and ‘well I WANTED it to be consensual!’ And whatever. When you’re in that position of power you have a responsibility to not abuse that. At the start of the show it was fine because they weren’t trying to make a moral message or paint him as a good guy, but clearly they had to retcon so much just to make it work when they wanted him to be a innocent twink. The retcon to make Stolas and Blitzo childhood friends, making Stolas a desperate poor baby who doesn’t know how to communicate and he actually ALWAYS totally loved Blitzo. Sure. But really if you just watch the show without any background knowledge, Stolas looks like a creep. And Viv had to justify everything Stolas did while making Blitzo, the victim in this dynamic, into the bad guy who totally also loves Stolas (despite clearly not being into him until they wanted to change things in the end of s1) and he’s in the wrong for disliking the upper class demons who mistreat them.

Viv seems to see kink as consensual abuse in a way. She doesn’t understand how sexual dynamics work. And she fetishises toxic relationships without thinking critically of what she’s really saying. Double standards between SA jokes and SA storylines. I’d even say that making Val a character people can get attached to and buy merch of is kinda icky, because yes irl r*pists can be charming to others, but clearly Viv wasn’t saying anything interesting with his character’s portrayal. She just wanted someone to abuse her favourite OC and make sure her close proship friends can get off to it while disregarding how victims may respond to it.

It’s a sort of conservative way of seeing kink culture and queer culture in general imo. The p*rn industry has already normalised fetishising abusive power dynamics but against women much more often. Viv is just doing that but between two male characters instead. Also did Chaggie get any sort of sexual stuff idk. I don’t think so, I can hardly remember any f/f relationships in her work.

Sorry for the long rant I just have so many thoughts on it ahh and I wanna see if people agree and have more in depth talk on it. Viv stop letting your p*rn addiction ruin your show 💔

Vivziepop shouldn’t be surprised when people meme on her when it comes to her lame sex and swearing jokes 😭 There is a lot of it that you can make a complication video of it.

Short 2 “Mission Antarctica” was so dumb especially with Blitzø and the crystal. “I’ve never been good at this shit.” That such a lie, when has Blitzø sucked at lust? Especially when the show goes out of its way to establish that Blitzø not only scored a literally pop star, a goetia prince, and hundreds of hellborn who were at Verosika’s party complaining about him.

Yeah, you are right Anon. Thats not how it works, just because you are a top doesn’t mean you are automatically bad at oral sex and doesn’t help how they establish Blitzø to be this attractive person who is able to get most people or use his charms as an advantage in a tough situation. I know this scene is a joke but Blitzø easily could’ve accessed the crystal.

The fact that Blitzø gets away with sexual assaulting and threatening Moxxie and by extension Millie is insane. He never actually apologizes to them and proceeds to call out Mammon for doing similar things he did to Moxxie and Millie. And it never crosses Blitzø’s mind or forces him to realize that he’s a hypocrite too.

Don’t get me wrong that scene where Blitzø defends Fizzarolli from Mammon multiple times is sweet but at the same time why should I take it seriously when it used as a punchline for a character like Moxxie. It’s the same issue with Angel Dust and Sir Pentious.

Vivziepop wants us, the audience to emphasize and sympathize with Angel Dust getting raped and abused by Valentino. But in the same breath makes a joke about Sir Pentious getting raped off screen and some fans making excuses that “it’s Hell.” At this point, why should I care about Angel Dust’s situation if some people are willing to let a scene like this slide.

I mean Vivziepop was arguing with a bunch of SA survivors on Instagram Threads about episode 4 of Hazbin Hotel (before the full episode got out). 😂

Fizzarolli and Ozzie are something to say the least. Their relationship can be summed up by “Sugar daddy Ozzie dominates wittle Fizzarolli.” They had a joke at the end of Mammon special episode that Ozzie tops Fizzarolli, that’s how un-subtle they are about their dynamic.

I like Fizzarolli and somewhat latch on to him and relate to him regarding his disability but the man (who is in his 30s) is babied and coddled especially by Ozzie that I unironically miss his edge and fierceness from season 1. That Stoliz childhood plot was so useless, then meeting as a children made the Stoliz ship unironically look worse and was useless. You aren’t slick Vivziepop, I see you with the children Stoliz merch, trying to make it look like they were friends when in reality they aren’t. 😂

No Anon, Chaggie didn’t have any sexual content in season 1 compared to ships like Ozzie/Fizz and Stoliz. Even Millie/Moxxie and Valentino/Vox had more “spicy” content than Chaggie. The closest thing Chaggie did was have a soft kiss on the lips in episode 8. Apparently, in season 2 something “fun” and “spicy” will happen between Chaggie.